Awakening
by the typewriter improviser
Summary: (Sequel to Reincarnated) Dean was dead. Sam was gone. Nikki was whisked away. Miles away in Connecticut, a blonde with a hazy past starts hearing voices and having dreams about two brothers who go from state to state saving people. She was looking for answers, just like Sam and Dean. Sam didn't think he'd ever see her again, and she didn't think he'd be real. (Finally Sam/OC!)
1. Chapter 1

**At last!** **The squeal to Reincarnated! I'm _so_ sorry to keep you all waiting.**

 **I was all ready to post a few chapters right away right now, I uploaded the cover and everything,** **but aside for this one chapter I had on Google Docs, the rest is** **on a jump drive I left at my house, and I won't be able to get until Tuesday morning when I get back from Green Bay.**

 **I'm _so_ sorry my cupcakes!**

 **Very very very very very very very very very sorry!**

 **A few more chapters will be posted _July 21, 2015_ (Tuesday) at _9:00 am_ , _Eastern Standard Time_** **.**

 **But, here's a little snipit to hold you over until then... ;)**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Abruptly, Dean inhaled.

The harsh feeling of dry, stale air rushing into his lungs made him cough; it felt like he hadn't used them in years. Dean gave a few raspy calls for help, but his voice was too dry and quiet. After blindly feeling around his pockets, he pulled out a lighter. With an expert flick of his thumb, a small flame burst out.

With the light from the flame, Dean was face to face with the top of a pine box. As startling and conclusive as the sight was, he fidgeted around the box briefly before he closed the lighter and began slamming his hands against the top of the box.

When it broke open, Dean barely had time to take a deep breath before dirt poured down on him. He pushed, kicked and crawled his way to the surface.

The sun was blinding as he broke through the surface. With half of his body still in the ground, Dean had to lean over to the grass, taking deep breaths. He was pretty sure he was using parts of his lungs he hadn't used in _years_.

After yanking his lower body out of the dirt, he looked at the poorly made wooden cross that stuck out, crooked, from the ground. Along the horizontal part, were the letters _'RIP D.W._ '. Dean rolled his eyes and batted the cross lazily with his hand, making it fall onto the ground. Nikki must have made it; she had shit skills with a hammer and nails, but much neater knife-carving letters than Sam.

 _Nikki and Sam._

Fleeting thoughts about his brother and 'best friend' raced through Dean's mind as he got to his feet; specifically Nikki sobbing and hurting the knuckles in his hand. He yanked off the dirty long-sleeved shirt he was wearing and looked around. The field he'd been buried in had been surrounded by trees; it was like a bomb went off. They were stripped of their leaves and needles, and no longer upright. Every tree for about a mile ha fallen trees that radiated around his grave.

Dean tied his flannel around his waist, and started walking.

* * *

Using his shirt to soften the blow, Dean used his elbow to break the glass of a gas station door. He reached through the broken pane and turned the knob.

He didn't even check to see if there was anybody in the backroom. He made a beeline for the glass-doored fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. He drank half of the first in one gulp. After he finished it off, along with two others, he leaned against the wall. Dean idly recalled Nikki saying that if you drank cold water when you were overheating you'd get a stomach cramp. He chuckled slightly, and started his third bottle of ice cold water.

The gas station looked like it hadn't seen any new technology since 1980; which didn't sit too well with Dean. The newest things in the place where the news papers. He was feeling a mix of anxiousness and dread as he walked towards them.

 _How long had he been in Hell?_

The _Pontiac Daily Gazette_ was dated Thursday, September 18, 2008.

"September..." Dean trailed off.

 _ **Jesus** , it'd only been a few months._

In the bathroom, Dean turned the sink to the coldest it would go and splashed it over his sweaty, grimy face. After he dried his face with his dirty flannel, he stared at his reflection for a second or two. He cautiously lifted the hem of his black t-shirt, jaw clenched in readiness for the criss-cross of scars he assumed would be there.

Nothing.

Not a scar or mark on his chest; aside from the black anti-possession tattoo.

Dean remembered the feeling of the steel-cold claws of the hellhound ripping through his chest. _Nikki_ had screamed with every swipe. Then his airway had been snapped at; blood had bubbled up in his throat and over his lips. He'd looked at Nikki then, after he couldn't breathe. She'd been cut up pretty bad too; there was blood on her t-shirt (he couldn't tell what was his and what was hers) and a gash on her cheek. Dean remembered holding Nikki's hand, and her repeating _I'm not letting go_ over and over.

And there wasn't a scratch on him.

Well, that wasn't entirely true; there was a nasty, painful red burn on his shoulder. It chafed and burned against his rough burn, shaped like a hand print, was where Nikki had pressed her head while she cried. Of everything that had happened to him in Hell, nothing would have done _that_.

* * *

Dean grabbed a random candy bar off a shelf. He ripped off the rapper and took a bite. He shrugged at the taste (it wasn't amazing, but it looked better than most of the crap in the place), and threw a few handfuls in the plastic bag he'd snagged from behind the counter. After grabbing the rest of the water bottles, he made his way to the cash register. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he'd need cash.

He stopped and picked up the copy of _Busty Asian Beauties_ off the rack. Dean chuckled to himself at the pun he'd come up with in his mind; off the rack. After briefly paging through the magazine, he added it to his bag.

As he was emptying the register, the TV turned on. Dean paused, and slowly turned the static-screened TV off.

The radio on the other side of the counter turned on. Tacky country music came from the speakers. A high pitched ringing started, and the TV turned back on.

The ringing grew louder, and Dean grabbed salt off the shelf.

His face pinched in discomfort; this was the sound Nikki had made back in the hotel and in the house with Gordon. It was a loud sound that Dean could feel in his bones; the one thing he remembered about Nikki's episodes with that sound, it was that it was only going to get louder.

What he wasn't expecting was for it to get so _loud_ so _fast_. It'd taken at least a few minutes, this was painfully loud in seconds.

Dean gave up on the salt, and pressed his hands to his ears. He crouched down on instinct, thankfully. The remaining glass panes of the door shattered inwards. He jumped away from the broken glass, only to land in more.

In a desperate attempt, he threw himself back towards the register; the windows across from it shattered. Glass rained down on Dean's face.

The ringing stopped abruptly. Dazed and mildly hurting, Dean sat up.

As he looked around at the shattered glass, he sighed once.

 _This is new._

* * *

 ** _DEAN WINCHESTER IS SAVED_**

800 miles away in New Haven, Connecticut, a blonde grad student jerked out of the half-asleep state she'd been in.

A few months ago when she signed up for her final semester of classes, she'd been drawn to the _adorable_ boy who was at the table for _America's Unwritten Constitution_. Little did she know, he wasn't the TA who'd be teaching it, just some random kid who was in the PE program.

Now, twice a week she had to sit for two hours and listen to a woman with a nasal voice talk about the ground rules of constitutional interpretation, how it interacts with judicial decisions blah blah _blah_.

Nicole, the half-asleep grad student, had been happily day dreaming her way into sleep with thoughts about her four free weeks before she really had to start studying; just her and Sammy, a half-gallon of cake batter ice cream and crappy daytime TV.

Then this— this _voice_ in her head head had bellowed out literally the most _random_ sentence ever. It'd surprised her so much that when she jerked awake, she let out a little yelp and actually slipped out of her chair.

"Miss _Lani_."

Slowly, Nicole peeked over her desk, and down the lecture hall at the TA with the nasal voice.

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to explain _why_ you're on the floor?" She asked, a hand on her poorly dressed, paisley-printed 90s skirt clad hip.

She hopped back into her seat with a wide, slightly nervous, grin on her face. "No...No, I'm good."

The TA continued with her lecture; Nicole awkwardly rubbed the spot on the back of her hip that she landed on, and furrowed her brow in thought.

 _Who the hell is **Dean Winchester**?_


	2. Chapter 2

**At long last! The chapters are up!**

 **I'll be the first to admit that these first few chapters are going to be a little confusing. I promise, though, I'll try to answer all questions.**

 **Next update: Tuesday, July 28**

 **Enjoy! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Nicole POV

A few hours later, I pulled into the driveway of the duplex my older brother rented for me. I put my Toyota into park, grabbed my sweatshirt and bag, and held my lanyard in my teeth as I walked up the steps to my door.

My brother, Gabe, picked out my college apartment before I even had a chance to see it. I laughed when I first saw it; it was a _church_.

It was a smaller building in the historical part of New Haven, built in the mid-1800s. Until the 1940s it was a church. It'd been a multitude of things since then; a little store, a day care and a bunch of other things that Gabe listed off, but I didn't listen too. A few years ago they built a wall in the middle and made two 1,100 square foot apartments. Mine was in the front of the church; there was a metal spiral staircase that led up to the small loft bedroom in the steeple. Gabe had plans to change all the stained glass windows with plain glass, but I liked them. I'd gone out of my way to get a bunch of white stuff for my apartment; that way I could see all the colors shine through the stained glass.

As I was unlocking my door, I heard movement in my apartment ; and it _wasn't_ Sammy. I rolled my eyes and pushed the door open. "You know, most people _call_ when they're going to show up in someone else's home." I called, dropping my stuff on the little table next to my door.

"Don't act like you're not happy to see me!" Gabe called from the kitchen. Gabe lived in Wisconsin; where we grew up. He wasn't _technically_ my brother, but he was as close as I was gonna get and better that I ever could have imagined.

When I was 9 I came to live with his family; Gabe, his brother Chris and their parents Greg and Olivia. Chris was overseas now; he was in the Army. Greg and Olivia died a few years ago in a car accident. So, it was just Gabe and me, and I was fine with that.

"Yeah, well, I never really am." I sighed. A happy bark sounded from the kitchen, and I happily got onto my knees to catch my dog when he crashed into me.

"Hey boy!" I said as I tried to match his enthusiasm. I think I did a good job; his big paws were on my shoulders and he was licking my face. "Jeez! Sammy! I know you missed me but _down boy_!"

When I moved into this place four and a half years ago, Gabe was a little concerned. He was always a little over protective. The day he was supposed to leave, he brought this little ball of black, white and reddish fur; the tiny puppy that would grow up to be my 135-pound Bernese Mountain Dog. I named him Sammy.

I scratched his ears and belly, gave him kisses and a tight hug before I stood up. Sammy trailed after me as I went into the kitchen. Gabe had completely raided my fridge and cupboards. " _What_ are you doing?"

"Making a kickass sundae," Gabe said, very concentrated on the chocolate syrup that he was drizzling over the four scoops of ice cream. There was already a ton a sprinkles, nuts, gummy worms and marshmallow fluff on it.

"Really? Cause you know what _I_ think it looks like?" I asked rhetorically as I leaned against my kitchen island. He glanced at me; eyebrows raised as he waited for my answer. "A big, heaping bowl of _diabetes_."

Gabe just rolled his eyes and threw a gummy worm at me.

"Hey, so, wanna hear somethin' weird?" I asked, grabbing a spare spoon from the counter and digging around the bowl until I found actual ice cream.

"Uh, only _always_." Gabe chuckled. I rolled my eyes; I should have known better. Gabe had always been interested in weird crap. The summer before my senior year of high school, he took me on a road trip through the midwest. We didn't stop at any museums, Mount Rushmore or anything _normal_ like that; it was twelve days of mystery spots, bigfoot sightings, haunted hotels and 'possessed' hot dog stands.

Then again, _I_ was pretty weird in some aspects, so who was I to judge?

"So, I'm sitting in the Most Horrible Awful Terrible Class Ever-"

"Wait," Gabe cut me off, a hand up. "Most Horrible Awful Terrible Class Ever; that's that class about the beginnings of the universe, right?"

"No, Most Horrible Awful Terrible; that's the one about the constitution or whatever," I said, frowning. "Anyway, I'm just sitting there, and I hear this _voice_."

I was going to continue, but Gabe had this really weird look on his face. He looked both impressed and terrified at the same time.

"Hey, Gabe," I called lowly. I grabbed a gummy worm and threw it at his chest. It bounced off and hit the table. I could feel Sammy pacing around my feet before he laid down over them protectively. "What's with you?"

"Oh, nothing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Gabe stayed the night on my couch. A cab came to take him to the airport Friday morning, and we hugged goodbye at my door. I had classes to get to, or I would drive him myself. He had been weird the rest of the night, and he just about broke my ribs when we hugged goodbye. Since he flew all the way here, I hoped he would have stayed longer. But he said he had stuff to do back in Milwaukee.

"Well, what do you think Sammy?" I asked, sitting on my front steps as Gabe drove away. I reached up and scratched behind his ears. "Was he being _weirder_ than normal, or are we just desensitized to it?"

* * *

Omniscient POV

It was only a few days after Dean was raised up from the pit, and they were already neck deep in a case.

"Yeah, we're at Jed's. He looks even less worse than Olivia. What about you?" Dean asked into the phone as he and Sam went down the steps of the white house (which had seen better days).

" _I checked on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams,_ " Bobby said on the other end. " _They've redecorated...in red_."

Dean turned to his brother and made a gesture across his throat; they were dead. "What the hell is goin' on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly wanna gank off-duty hunters?"

" _I don't know, but until we find out, you guys better get your asses to my place._ "

"We're on our way." Dean said, then snapped his phone shut as he got in the driver's seat.

* * *

A few miles from Bobby's, Sam pulled into a gas station. He put the nozzle in the car, pressed a few buttons of the pump, and ducked down to look at Dean through the windows; his head was lolling out the window. He was _out_. Sam stopped off in the restroom.

He was leaning over the sink, washing his hands. He was careful to keep his gaze on his hands, not the reflection in the mirror.

After Dean 'died' four months ago, Sam had been wearing his necklace; the one with the little brass-colored pendant. He'd also been wearing a second necklace for the past _three_ months. Whenever he looked at it, he felt _guilty_.

Suddenly, it got cold in the grimy, dirty bathroom. Sam could see his breath come out of his mouth in white puffs. He turned off the water, and gave one more breath just to see if it was his imagination. It wasn't.

Sam tucked the necklace back in his shirt as he looked up to the mirror. The two oval pendants were cold against his chest, but he was focused on the frost growing over the mirror. He reached up, and swiped his hand across the mirror.

After the frost was gone, the reflection of a person could be seen behind Sam. He gasped, while the rest of his muscles froze.

It wasn't a threatening person, it was just the last person he wanted to see.

"Hi Sam." They said in a casual, cheerful voice. Sam turned to look at them; he was greeted with an indifferent smile. "Long time, no see."

Sam's face was a mask of painful guilt as he look down at the person across from him.

The door swung open. Like they were made of dust, the person shifted into particles and disappeared as the door swung through there they had been standing.

"Hey, speed it up." Dean said, giving the door a good slam. He'd been yawning and rubbing his eyes as he snapped at Sam, so he didn't see the look of horror on his brother's face.

Sam took a second to compose himself before he followed his brother back to the car.

* * *

The Winchester brothers were unable to reach Bobby all night; Dean floored it to the salvage yard.

"Bobby?" Dean called out in a hushed yell. Both brothers had sawed-offs at the ready as they searched the first floor of the house. Dean found an iron poker on the floor, and signaled Sam to check outside while he took the upstairs.

"Bobby?" Dean yelled through the upstairs. His head jerked to his right when a door slammed shut. Then, all the doors at the top of the house started to slam shut; all except for one.

Dean cautiously approached the door. "Come out, come out, whoever you are..." He taunted.

The room turned cold just as a feminine voice spoke. "Dean Winchester...Still so bossy."

Dean turned around to see a familiar face.

"Don't recognize me? This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a _slut_." Meg. It was _Meg_. Her hair was darker and shorter, her shirt, jeans and face were streaked with dirt, and she looked _mad_.

Dean raised his shotgun, and Meg playfully put her hands up. "It's ok. I'm not a demon."

"You're the girl the demon possessed." Dean realized.

"Meg Masters," she clarified. "Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood."

She took a few steps closer, her hands up like she was trying to calm an animal. "Seriously...I'm just a college girl...Sorry, _was_ a college girl."

"I was walking home one night and got jumped by all this smoke. Next thing you know, I'm a prisoner...in here." Meg tapper her head. "Now, I was awake. I had to watch while she murdered people."

Dean lowered his gun an inch. "I'm sorry." He said simply.

"Oh yeah?" Meg countered in a soft (but still angry) voice. "So sorry you had me thrown off a building?"

"Well," Dean started. "We thought-"

"No!" Meg cut him off. "You didn't think! I kept waiting, praying! I was trapped in there screaming at you 'Just help me, please!" You're supposed to help people, Dean. Why didn't you help me?

"I'm sorry." Dean said again.

"Stop saying you're _sorry_!" Meg yelled, throwing a hard punch at the end. Dean was thrown into the wall next to him.

He groaned from the floor and began getting to his feet. "Meg. Meg..." He was cut of by a kick to the chin.

Meg kicked the sawed-off behind her, and looked down at Dean.

"We didn't know!" Dean insisted.

"No..." Meg trailed off, squatting down next to Dean. "You just _attacked_. Did you ever think there was a girl in here? No. You charged in, slashing and burning."

"You think you're some kind of hero? " Meg asked.

"No." Dean answered. "I don't."

Meg grabbed his collar and yanked her closer. "You're damn right."

Dean noticed a mark on Meg's fist while she yelled at him.

"You have no idea what it's like to be ridden for months by pure evil...while you're family has no idea what happened to you!"

"We did the best we could-" Dean was cut off when Meg threw him to the floor and kicked him again.

"It wasn't just me, Dean. I had a sister." Meg said as Dean tried to right himself. "A little sister. She worshiped me. You know how little siblings are, right? How they'll do anything for you? She was never the same after I disappeared. She just...she got lost. And when my body was lying in the morgue, alld broken and beat up. You know what that did to her?"

"She killed herself!" Meg yelled, kicking Dean in the ribs. "Because of you, Dean! Because all you were thinking about was your family, you're revenge! 50 words of Latin sooner, and I'd still be alive...My baby sister would still be alive."

"Nikki..." Dean panted, looking up at Meg from his knees. "Nikki...She tried to save you."

Meg laughed once. "Yeah...Yeah, she did...Bobby singers made her stop. You could have kept her going, Dean. You could have _made her_ heal me!"

"She was killing herself healing you," Dean snapped, glaring at Meg. "She would'a _died_."

"Then she should have!" Meg yelled. "Nikki was nothing but a _witch_ , Dean. A witch only interested in saving herself!"

Dean gave Meg a harsh glare; she stepped _way_ over the line with that one.

"You _bi-_ " Dean's swearing was cut off by _another_ kick.

Grunting and groaning, Dean managed to haul himself through the only open door at the end of the hall while Meg leaned casually in the doorjamb.

In his crawling and scuffling, Dean got the pistol out from his waistband. He cocked it had pointed it up at Meg.

"C'mon Dean," Meg scoffed. "Did your brain get French-fried in Hell? You can't shoot me with _bullets_."

"I'm not shooting you," Dean growled. He raised his aim and shot the iron chandelier. It fell on top of Meg, turning her to dust.

* * *

"So, they're all people we know?" Sam asked.

"Not just know." Dean corrected. "People we couldn't save." At the words, Dean saw a look of guilt cross Sam's face. Bobby also glanced towards Dean.

"Hey, I saw something on Meg." Dean spoke up again. "Did she have a tattoo while she was alive?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't think so."

"It was like a-a mark on her hand-almost like a brand." Dean mumbled, reloading his shotgun.

"What did it look like?" Bobby asked, flipping through one of the large, leather-bound books on his desk. Sam scrawled the round mark he saw. He showed it to Dean, who nodded.

Bobby grabbed the pad, and began searching through his bookshelves. All three men turned around when the radio turned on, playing nothing but static. Dean cocked his shotgun.

"We gotta move." Bobby said, taking a few armfulls of books. He gave some to Sam and Dean.

"Whoa," Sam said as he took the books. "Uh, ok. Where are we going?"

"Some place safe, you ijit." Bobby snapped.

"Hey," Dean said, looking at Sam. "Where's your sawed off?"

Sam frowned and looked towards the kitchen. "Be right behind you." Sam said, giving his books to Dean. He took the iron poker with him, and entered the kitchen.

* * *

Sam had the poker at the ready as he pushed the door open. He began looking for his sawed off, holding it tightly.

He leaned down to look under the table, and he heard a soft giggle; he could see his breath in the air.

Slowly, Sam stood and readied the poker over his shoulder.

It was the same person who showed up in the bathroom.

Her dark, curly hair was springing up and floating over her shoulders. Her tanned skin had a healthy glow and her eyes were bright. She was wearing one of his shirts, and her bare legs were dangling over the kitchen counter on which she sat.

She grinned at him, and raked her hair back, revealing the round brand on her neck. She crossed her ankles and swung her legs a bit.

Sam's heart broke out into a sprint, and his grip on the poker loosened; he wasn't going to be able to make himself hit her with it.

The young woman sighed, and put her hands behind her on the counter to lean back a little. Sam could see flashes of her heather gray panties (the ones with the little pink bow on the front) where the shirt rode up, same with her bra under the barely-buttoned shirt.

She flashed him a warm, slightly mischievous smile before she spoke.

" _Sam-Not-Sammy._ "


	3. Chapter 3

Omniscient POV

 **20 days after Dean's death**

 **East Windsor, CT**

 _Trevor McMillan was only four months into the job as East Windsor chief coroner. He was the youngest in the town's history; 31 years old. The most he'd dealt with was a murder a few weeks ago, and the wife had already confessed to it before he got Mr. Talbot on the slab._

 _The Jane Doe had came in four days ago. Hikers found her at the trailhead to the Appalachians. It was just before dawn; her body was still warm. Trevor had never worked on a warm body before._

 _He had to cover her face when he attempted to make a Y-incision. It was difficult because there was so little of her chest left._

 _She was so_ _ **young**_ _; she couldn't be more than 26. To be so young and killed in such a_ _ **gruesome**_ _way..._

 _Trevor used his elbow to turn on his recorder; he was bloody up to his elbows._

"Dr. Trevor McMillan reporting the findings of Jane Doe's autopsy. _" He started. "_ Ms. Doe appears to be in her early twenties...No older than 26 years of age. _"_

"170 centimeters tall-that's about 5'7". Brown eyes, dark curly hair...Tattoo on her left side. It appears to be a pentagram within a burning circle...Tell police to investigate possible Satanic cult connections."

"Cult isn't likely though... _" Trevor trailed off thoughtfully. "_ She was found with a necklace around her neck. It had two pendants; patron saints. One, if I'm right, is for soldiers...Remember to submit photo and prints to the police to check for military connections _."_

 _The young coroner took a deep breath before continuing. "_ Massive trauma from pelvic region to upper abdominal...It-It appears to have been caused by several sharp blades...The savagery of the attack suggests an animal attack, but there would be more **tearing** of the intact skin...The wounds suggest a knife...Or...A lot of knives... _"_

 _Trevor pulled off his gloves and ran a hand down his face; his dishwater blond hair was a mess, and his face had spattering of blood that he didn't really care about. He laughed once._

"It's like this girl had a run in with Freddy Kruger...Crap... **That** was so **insensitive**... _"_

"It appears several large sections of bowel from both large and small intestines are missing...Stomach, liver, pancreas and both lungs show sharp force trauma...Most likely from a knife-like object...I found no evidence of an appendix or gallbladder, nor evidence that either organ was removed...It's possible that she was born without these organs... **Unlikely** , but possible... _"_

"Her shoulders are severely dislocated. Both clavicles are fractured...Fractured is putting it lightly, _" Trevor paused and chuckled lightly. "_ It appears to have been snapped like a twig...The sternum is was ripped out from the ribs...The ribs were then bent outwards, snapping at their respective midpoints... _"_

"Both lungs sustained massive sharp-force trauma, the left was ripped completely from the body...As was the **heart**... _"_

 _Trevor had to stop. He'd done extremely well in medical school; he never had a problem cutting open young female cadavers. Hell, one time, he ate a sandwich while working on one. But_ _ **this**_ _young woman wrenched him emotionally. He pulled the cloth off her face, and looked down at the pale, lifeless face of a girl cut down before she even reached her prime._

 _Her face was purple and black from deep bruising and blood pooling. If she wasn't dead, Trevor had no doubt that she was be a_ _ **beautiful**_ _woman._

 _He glanced at the recorder and cleared his throat._

"Jane has defensive wounds. _" He stated, frowning as he leaned on the table, looking at the woman's closed eyes. "_ Several broken fingers and fractured knuckles on both fists. Bruising on her forearms, knuckles, knees and shins shows she put up one hell'a'va fight...I've scraped under her fingernails for blood and tissue...The lab should have results in a few days... _"_

"Cause of death is exsanguination. _" He finished._

 _Trevor turned off the recorder, and began cleaning up the station. Once all the bloody tools were in the medical waste bin to be sent off and cleaned, he shed his medical coveralls and pulled on his suit jacket. Trevor put a handful of files in his briefcase and reached for the recorder; it was still on the table next to Jane Doe._

 _He walked over, put the recorder in his pocket, and began to push Jane's door shut. Trevor paused, and squinted at one of Jane's dark curls. He ran to get an evidence jar and a pair of tweezers._

 _Carefully, Trevor pulled a silver shaving from one of the thick curly. He dropped it in the jar, and held it up to the light._

 _He took the recorder from his pocket and pressed record._

"I found a small metal shaving in Jane's hair. _" He stated, closing her drawer. "I have a feeling this isn't as open and shut as the police seem to think."_

* * *

 **Present**

When Dean got to Bobby's after digging himself out of his grave, one of the first things he asked was _Where is Nik?_ Bobby said she left with Sam a few weeks after Dean died, and he hadn't really heard from either of them since then.

At the hotel where Dean and Bobby found Sam, Dean almost hugged the brunette girl who opened the door; it was only after she spoke that he realized it _wasn't_ Nikki. Whoever she was, she looked enough like Nikki to be her sister.

Now Sam, Dean and Bobby were in the panic room in Bobby's basement. Dean was pacing around, and Sam was waiting for Dean to start yelling at him.

"Dean-"

" _What the hell, Sam_?" Dean finally yelled. Bobby was letting two brothers go at it; butting in wouldn't help. "What _was_ that?"

He was talking about what happened just a few minutes ago in Bobby's kitchen.

* * *

 **5 Minutes Ago**

" _Sam-Not-Sammy."_

 _Slowly, Nikki slid off the counter. Sam took a few stumbling steps back, looking at her wide-eyed. The iron bar slid from his hand._

 _She smiled as she waltzed around the kitchen on her tiptoes. Nikki's slim fingers trailed over the counter, the chair backs, the table; anything they could touch. "Aw...Not happy to see me?" She asked coyly, looking at Sam out of the corner of her eye. '_

 _All Sam could do was swallow._

" _If my memory serves me..." Nikki said, a mock-thought look on her face; a finger tapping on her cheek for emphasis. "The last time we saw each other, you were very happy to see me." She gave him that little half-smirk. She giggled and twirled on one foot; the shirt she wore flared up and gave Sam a good peek at her stomach._

 _At the bruises along her ribs, and the four thick scars that crossed her stomach._

" _I-I burned your bones." Sam got out; his throat got dry suddenly. "You...Nik, you can't he here."_

 _Nikki sighed, and stopped twirling around the kitchen. She laughed lightly; just a breath through her nose. "C'mon Sam, you're smarter than that."_

 _She took a step towards him. "You saw how easily Jane managed that demon in the afterlife. I'm twice as powerful as her...Do you really think that burning my bones would keep me in Heaven?"_

 _Sam said nothing._

" _You know, I'm supposed to hurt you." She told him; a casually coy look on her face. "Smack you around a little...Kick you in the jewels, dislocate your shoulder, yank your hair." Nikki paused briefly._

" _But I think we_ _ **both**_ _know you_ _ **kinda**_ _enjoy that last one."_

" _Nikki don't do this." Sam said slowly. "You...The real you wouldn't want to hurt me."_

" _Didn't you hear me just now?" Nikki huffed, crossing her arms. "I don't wanna hurt you."_

" _But I can make you feel bad." She added, walked towards Sam, who'd pressed his back to the wall. Nikki put a hand on his chest, and raised the other one up to brush over Sam's cheek._

 _His eyes fell shut as her warm, small fingers trailed over his hairline and played with a few strands. They moved down his cheek; her thumb brushed over the bridge of his nose. Sam's mouth fell slack just as her thumb moved off his nose to graze his lips._

 _Sam's hands shakily raised up to rest on Nikki's waist. He flexed his grip briefly; feeling the warm flesh on her sides, pressing his thumb to her pulse and trailing his fingers over the cloth-covered scars._

" _I miss you, Nik." He opened his eyes when he said her name, and watched her pink-hued cheeks raise as she smiled._

" _I missed you too." Nikki said earnestly, her voice soft and heartfelt. She brought her other hand to Sam's face. It carded through his lengthy hair before it came to rest, cupping his jaw. "I used my last breath to scream for you."_

 _Sam pinched his eyes shut again. He had to keep telling himself that_ _ **this wasn't Nikki.**_

" _I was thinking about you while I had my insides ripped out," Nikki continued in the soft voice. "I was praying that you would...swoop in like a superhero and save me."_

 _Sam used his grip on Nikki's hips to shove her backwards, away from him._

 _Nikki wasn't done though._

" _As I had my heart ripped out, I was_ _ **screaming**_ _for you, Sam." Nikki half-yelled from her place now by the counter. "You said you'd_ _ **protect me**_ _!"_

" _I tried to," Sam insisted. "I got there as fast as I could."_

" _Well it wasn't fast enough!"_ _ **Clearly**_ _," Nikki yelled, gesturing to her whole body._

" _Hey Sam! What's takin' you so long?" Dean called, poking his head into the kitchen. His eyes widened, and he smiled when he saw who Sam was in the kitchen with._

" _Nik...God it's good to see you," Dean said, walking towards his brother and best friend._

 _Nikki raised an eyebrow, and looked back at Sam; she seemed to be having a hard time controlling laughter. "You didn't tell him?" She asked Sam._

 _Dean's brows furrowed. "Tell me what?"_

 _Sam was frozen against the wall as Nikki walked closer to the kitchen table. Sam had dropped his iron bar there earlier._

 _Nikki had her typical mischievous half-smirk on her face as she looked at Dean. With one finger, she touched the iron bar._

 _She disappeared with a puff of smoke._

 _Dean looked at the spot Nikki formerly occupied with horror. His head snapped to his brother when Sam took a sharp breath; it looked like he was trying not to cry._

" _Sammy..." Dean managed to get out. "What the hell happened when I was in Hell?"_

* * *

Dean's face was an angry mix of horror, betrayal and down right sadness as he half-glared at Sam. "These people are the ones we _couldn't save_ , Sam. What the hell is _Nikki_ doing there?"

"Because she's _dead_ Dean!" Sam finally yelled back. Dean looked at his brother in shock.

Bobby slowly turned around, a similar look on his face. "Last I talked to you, you said she was in Oklahoma." He said lowly.

Sam nodded, and began fiddling with something under his shirt. "It's my fault."

He pulled a chain from his collar; two pendants hung from it.

St. Martin of Tours and St. Jerome Emiliani

"She tried to take on a werewolf on her own." Sam explained. "And...And she died."

* * *

 **22 days after Dean's death**

 _ **Trevor was dreaming.**_

 _ **He was walking down a path in the woods; it was night, and a full moon lit the sky.**_

 _ **Suddenly, Jane Doe was there.**_

 _ **She was on the ground, blood pouring from her stomach. Jane was gasping for air, her hands were pressed into her own abdomen.**_

 _ **Trevor dropped to his knees, his eyes wide with panic. He yanked off his button down, and pressed it to her stomach. "Hey...Hey, look at me!" He yelled, making Jane look at him.**_

" _ **I'm not going to let you die!" He vowed, pressing his shirt to her stomach. "I just have to find the source of the bleeding. Then we'll get you to a hospital, alright?"**_

 _ **Jane looked up at him with scared eyes. She began coughing up blood. It started to come from her nose as well.**_

 _ **As Trevor blindly felt inside Jane's abdomen, he watched her face. "What's your name?" He asked her. "C'mon...Just-Just tell me your name!"**_

 _ **Jane said nothing, she just looked to the left.**_

 _ **Trevor's brow furrowed, and he put both hands into her stomach. "I'm going to save you, you hear me?" He felt for major arteries and organs; desperately trying to stop her from bleeding out.**_

 _ **He noticed a man at the trailhead.**_

" _ **Hey!" He yelled. "Hey, call an ambulance!"**_

 _ **The man slowly began walking towards Trevor and Jane.**_

" _ **I need towels...Shirts, a jacket, anything! I have to stop the bleeding!" Trevor yelled, finding a bleeder. The major artery was cut clean in two. As he tried to pinch the slippery artery closed, he looked towards the man. He was standing a few feet away, looking down at the two of them and not moving.**_

" _ **Why aren't you helping her?" Trevor yelled up at the man.**_

" _ **You have to let her go, Trevor." The man said, moving a little closer.**_

" _ **No! No I can't!" Trevor yelled, shaking his head. He yanked the string from Jane's sweatshirt and used it to keep the artery closed as he looked fore more. "I don't want her to keep suffering! I need to find out what happened to her! She-She doesn't deserve to be a Jane Doe!"**_

 _ **The man squatted down on the other side of Jane. He had shaggy brownish hair, and a sympathetic look in his eyes. "She's already dead."**_

" _ **I'm not letting her die." Trevor insisted, looking back at Jane's stomach. His shirt had long since been soaked through; it was sitting on Jane's chest. "She can't die twice!"**_

" _ **Trevor!" The man said, grabbing his wrists out of Jane's stomach. Trevor looked up at the man with determined, wide eyes.**_

" _ **Let me save her!" Trevor yelled, trying to yank his hands free.**_

" _ **She's already been saved!" The man yelled back. Trevor frowned; his eyes confused.**_

" _ **She's**_ _ **dead**_ _ **! How is she**_ _ **saved**_ _ **?" Trevor yelled, looking down at Jane. She was staring at the sky and gasping for air as blood poured from her stomach and soaked his pants.**_

" _ **Trevor!**_ _ **Listen to me!**_ _ **" The man yelled. Thunder clapped over them.**_

" _ **I'm telling you,**_ _ **you need to let her go!**_ _ **"**_

 _Trevor gasped awake, staring at the white ceiling of his bedroom._

 _The man's words rang in his ears. You need to let her go._

 _Jane's file was on his side table. He grabbed it and opened it up; he stared at the bloody, fearful face captured by the crime scene photographers._

 _The sheriff had closed the case the day before, he was supposed to get on with Mr. Quinn; an elderly man who died in a car accident the day before._

 _The lab refused to give an analysis on the metal shaving for a closed case, so Trevor took it to a jewelry shop in town. The old jeweler man told him it was sterling silver. Not quite jewelery grade; it was probably melted down from a few spoons or an old candlestick._

 _ **You need to let her go.**_

 _He couldn't, though._

 _Trevor_ _ **couldn't**_ _let her go._

* * *

 _After pulling on a pair of jeans, Trevor found a flashlight in the back of his closet and got in his car. It was a short drive to the trailhead where Jane was found._

 _Using his flashlight, Trevor made his way to the side path where he found a massive pool of dried blood in the dirt._

 _He remembered his dream._

 _ **Jane looked up at him with scared eyes. She began coughing up blood. It started to come from her nose as well.**_

 _ **As Trevor blindly felt inside Jane's abdomen, he watched her face. "What's your name?" He asked her. "C'mon...Just-Just tell me your name!"**_

 _ **Jane said nothing, she just looked to the left.**_

 _ **Trevor's brow furrowed, and he put both hands into her stomach. "I'm going to save you, you hear me?" He felt for major arteries and organs; desperately trying to stop her from bleeding out.**_

 _ **He noticed a man at the trailhead.**_

" _ **Hey!" He yelled. "Hey, call an ambulance!"**_

" _She...She looked to her left." Trevor mumbled. He searched the grass, to the left of the blood pool, but found nothing._

" _This is gross..." He groaned, carefully maneuvering himself so he was laying in the dried blood. "Gross gross_ _ **gross**_ _..." Trevor groaned as he put his head where Jane's would have been on the ground._

 _Briefly, he looked up at the sky. The he looked to his left. The beam of his flashlight followed his gaze, and stopped under a bush._

" _What the...?" Trevor trailed off, getting up from the dirt. He felt around under the leafy shrub. His fingers brushed against something cold. He grabbed it, and held it under the light of his flashlight._

 _A car key._

 _A shiny silver car key on a ring on a dirty, threadbare lanyard. It was blue, with 'YALE' in white lettering._

 _Trevor ran back to the parking lot, and began looking at the cars. It was probably an old one, since there wasn't a fob on the ring._

 _In the back of the lot, there was a black Mustang with two orange stripes from the grill to the back bumper._

" _C'mon..." Trevor said under his breath, pushing the key into the lock. He twisted it, and heard the lock click._

 _The door creaked as Trevor fell into the driver's seat. He smiled for a second; he found her car when the cops couldn't. After he was done with his moment of pride, he looked around the car._

 _There were dog tags hanging from the rearview mirror. They belonged to_ _ **Captain Christopher Harper**_ _._

 _There was a plastic bag full of trash on the floor by the passenger's seat; mostly Chinese food containers._

 _A pocket knife on the dashboard._

 _The glove compartment was most interesting; it was locked, so he had to use the key to get it open. The first thing he noticed was pictures._

 _A picture of Jane sitting crosslegged on the hood of the Mustang. She had a Chinese food container in one hand, chopsticks in the other. She was smiling wide, her nose wrinkled when she smiled._

 _One image of Jane between two tall men. One with shaggier hair, one with blond, cropped hair. She had an arm around each of their broad shoulders. Jane was enthusiastic about the picture, while the men looked like they were tolerating it._

 _A smoke damaged, creased photo of Jane and a taller blonde man. The blond was in blues; maybe he was Cpt. Christopher Harper. Jane was in a pretty green dress as she held a medal with a purple ribbon._

 _Trevor put the photos back in the glove compartment, and turned around in the seat. There was a military-esque bag in the back seat._

 _There was a phone in the pocket._

 _Trevor grabbed it, and flipped it open. Trevor praised a God that he didn't believe in when it lit up; the phone was charged. Jane had a lot of missed calls from 'Sam.'_

 _He pressed speed dial one._

" _ **This is Dean. Leave your name and nightmare after the beep."**_

 _Trevor pressed speed dial two. It rang and rang, then it was answered._

" _ **Nikki? Where are you? Are you alright?"**_ _A deep male voice answered._

 _Trevor blurted out the first thing he thought of. "Her name is Nikki?"_

 _Silence._

" _ **Who is this?"**_

" _My-My name is Trevor McMillen...I'm the chief medical examiner of East Windsor, Connecticut."_

" _ **She's in Connecticut?"**_ _The voice demanded._

" _Uh...I-I think so." Trevor said, frowning. "Can...Can you tell me what Nikki looks like?"_

" _ **Brown eyes. Curly brown hair. Tan skin. Beautiful. Why?"**_

 _Trevor closed his eyes and took a breath. He was a medical examiner. When people came to him, the family usually knew they were dead. He'd never had to tell anybody they're loved one was dead._

" _I-I'm sorry for your loss."_


	4. Chapter 4

Omniscient POV

After they had the whole 'rising witnesses' thing, Sam gave Dean directions to East Windsor. The older Winchester floored it to the small town, and didn't really touch the brake until they were in front of the cemetery.

It was a plain, small gray stone with a cross carved into it.

"After...After you died, Nikki talked about how she didn't know who she was anymore." Sam said. Both brothers were standing with their hands in their pockets, looking down at the stone. "The nuns at the orphanage gave her the last name _Blake_. _Howard_ was Jane's..."

"I get it." Dean mumbled.

The pale gray stone simply read _**NIKKI**_.

"You burned her bones?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Covered her back up after...Didn't want cops swarming around her grave."

Using his foot, Dean nudged the bouquet of flowers by her grave. "You bring 'er these?"

Sam shook his head. "No...No that's Trevor. He's the coroner here...Trev is the one who stuck with Nikki when she was a Jane Doe." Sam explained. "I think he has some sort of psychic ability...He found her keys in a _dream_."

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Sumthin' we should be concerned about?"

Sam shook his head. "No...No, Trev's a good guy."

Trusting his brothers judgement, Dean dropped it. He would have pushed, but this had to do with _Nikki_. If he helped, he got a pass.

The brothers just stood over her grave.

A few minutes later, Dean began fighting a smile. "Remember when I told her her driving sucked?"

Sam chuckled once. "Yeah, and she dumped half a bottle of hot sauce under your burger bun?"

"Yeah." Dean shuddered at the memory, but still smiled. " _Jesus_ , I think I drank a whole gallon of milk."

Sam smile a little as well and shook his head. He only stopped when his phone buzzed.

He begrudgingly answered it. "Yeah...Hey Trev, what's up?...No, no it definitely sounds like our kind of thing...Where?...Yeah, thanks." Sam hung up.

"That was Trevor, the coroner I was telling you about." Sam explained. "He was consulting on a case down in New Haven. They found a few missing college kids drained of blood."

"Vampire?" Dean guessed.

"No bite marks," Sam shrugged. "They had bruises on their wrists and ankles, like they were tied up."

"What are you thinking? Djinn?" Dean asked. "There aren't a lot of caves of ruins in _Connecticut_."

Sam shrugged. "We're only an hour away. Wanna check it out?"

Dean looked back down at Nikki's grave. "Yeah...Yeah, in a minute."

* * *

When the brothers got to New Haven, they stopped at a gas station to change into their fed suits. When Dean was looking through his bag in the trunk, he frowned at a plastic bag shoved in the back of the trunk. He pulled it out and took a look inside.

Nikki told Sam and Dean about her run in with Bela after they bumped into her during the ghost ship job. She'd used the money to buy herself some fed-wear; a gray pantsuit and a pink button-up.

 _That's_ what was in the bag.

Dean tied the bag back up, and threw it to the back of the trunk before grabbing his wrinkled suit and heading to the bathrooms to change.

* * *

A few hours later, Dean was still in his uncomfortable suit and on his way to the morgue. Sam ditched his suit and was walking around the neighborhood surrounding the Yale campus, where all of the dead kids attended.

"Nothing in the first two apartments," Sam told Dean over the phone. "Not surprised they were targeted; one didn't even have a working lock on their door."

Dean responded, but Sam was only half listening.

He smiled and knelt down to pet and scratch the big black, white and red dog that had bounded towards him.

"Hey boy," Sam said with a smile, scratching behind the dog's ears, and got a happy bark in response. He could hear Dean's muffled voice from his phone, forgotten on the ground, as he used both hands to play with and scratch the dog.

"...Where's home, boy?" Sam asked under his breath, reaching for the dog's blue collar and the shiny silver tag that hung from it.

"Sammy!" A feminine voice called.

Sam abruptly looked over his shoulder.

 _It sounded just like_...

He shook his head, and looked back at the dog.

"Sammy! C'mon, where'd you go?"

" _Sam? What's goin' on?_ " Dean half-yelled through the phone.

"C'mon Sammy! Don't do this to me!"

Sam stood up, the phone halfway to his face in one hand while the other held the collar of the big dog.

"Sammy!"

Every time the voice yelled something, Sam turned around abruptly, trying to see where the voice was coming from.

"Sammy! Where'd you go Sam-Sam?"

After turning around a few dozen times, he finally saw the source of the voice.

"Oh my God- _There_ you are!"

The owner of the voice was behind Sam, and he turned around quick to see them. His eyes were wide as he looked at the woman at the corner, looking at him and the dog.

Dean heard Sam breathe one word before the phone fell to the ground and broke.

" _Nikki._ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Here, as promised, is the next chapter!**

 **Also, I wanted to clear something up; when Gabe gave Nikki a makeover at the end of Reincarnated, _all he did was change her hair color_. I hope that helps!**

 **Enjoy! ;)**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Nicole POV

I flipped through TV channels quickly, and settled on some _Golden Girls_ reruns. I sat back on my blue sofa and raised my bowl of Lucky Charms closer to my mouth.

Sammy let out a low growl when the prerecorded, cheesy sitcom laughter played after Sophia said something.

I sighed and scratched the top of Sammy's head. "It's alright, boy." I cooed out of the corner of my mouth, slurping the milk that started to dribble over my chin.

I took my hand back tom Sammy's head, and put it back on my bowl. I stared aimlessly at the TV, and thought about the dream I had last night.

I was in an unfamiliar bedroom, wearing almost nothing; just a bra and panties. It was pretty dark, only the light from the window lit the cluttered, disorganized room. Suddenly, I was on my back on the bed. Someone was hovering over me, and my mind snapped to a different state. I grabbed at the man's hair, happily sighing and writhing as he kissed my neck and chest. His hands roamed my almost bare body; light grazes with his palm and hard presses with his fingers. It all ended when he gave a breathy moan in my ear. _Nikki_ , he'd groaned.

Then, it was over.

I woke up alone in my bed, Sammy pacing around down stairs by the door.

I laid there for a few minutes, staring up at the steeple while the multi-colored light from the stain glass windows flooded my white-painted-brick bedroom.

Since I had nothing else to do, I was lounging on my couch and thinking of my dream-man. How his broad shoulders were hovering over me, keeping me warm from the biting cool room, and how now an then his teeth grazed my neck.

I jumped when my phone rang.

"Hello?" I sighed, putting my bowl on my coffee table and tossing a knotted rope toy for Sammy to chase.

" _Hey! We're going to the Mean Bean, wanna come?_ " It was Willow, a girlfriend of mine who was always too cheery for her own good. The Mean Bean was a coffee place a few blocks from campus.

"No," I sighed, falling back on my couch. "Me and Sammy are just gonna stay home today...Maybe catch up on _24_."

" _Oh my God...That show is so lame!_ " Willow groaned.

"Yeah? Well _you're_ lame!" I snapped back, smiling. "Look, how about we meet there tomorrow? Ten work ok?"

" _Yeah..._ " Willow agreed. I could practically _hear_ her pout.

My phone beeped, and I took it away from my face to look at the screen. "Sorry, gotta go. Big brother's calling."

" _I'll pick you up a blueberry scone! No, wait, you hate blueberries. Chocolate chip!_ "

I giggled and hung up on Willow. I answered Gabe's call.

"Sup Big Bro?"

" _Are you alright?_ " He asked urgently.

My brow furrowed. "Uh, _yeah_...Should I not be?" I asked slowly.

" _Look, I'm getting on a plane in three hours. I bought a ticket for you, it's at the airport. We'll meet up in Kentucky-_ "

"Gabe what the hell are you talking about?" I cut him off, only more confused.

" _You have to get out of New Haven, Nicole._ " Gabe said firmly. " _When we get to Kentucky, we'll hop a plane to Atlanta and pick a country in Europe._ "

"Gabe, _no_." I said slowly. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me _what the hell is going on!_ "

" _I don't have time, Nicole!_ " He half-yelled to me. " _Just pack a bag and-_ "

" _Gabriel Jonathan Lani!_ " I yelled into my phone. "If you want me to pick up and leave a few days before I need to start studying, you're gonna get your butt on a plane and come here yourself to tell me! See you in 10 hours!" I hung up and tossed my phone on the couch next to me.

I heard Sammy whining and scratching at the back door in my kitchen. "What's wrong boy?" I asked, glancing at the clock. He just went out about three hours ago, and all that time had been spent with me on the couch.

"Hey...What's the matter Sam-Sam?" I asked as I knelt down on the floor next to him. I scratched his neck and he nuzzled my hands briefly before going back to the door. He let out a few terrifying barks, then began scratching the door.

"Sammy! No!" I scolded him, both for barking and for scratching the door. "Bad dog!"

He looked up and me and whimpered, pacing in front of the door again. I sighed, and got his leash. I unlocked the door and opened it the smallest amount. I leaned on the cupboard, and pulled on one of my red flats onto a bare foot, and then started the other.

"Sammy no!" I yelled as my big dog used his nose to open the door, then bolted.

I pulled my other shoe on, and took off after him, leash in hand. I didn't care if I was wearing some short cotton shorts, a tanktop and my short cotton robe; I wasn't going to lose my dog. I had him, Gabe and a circle of 'acquaintances' who were too bitchy to be considered friends.

"Sammy!" I yelled, running down the block in the direction of my dog.

"C'mon Sammy! C'mon, where'd you go?" I yelled, looking around wildly. "C'mon Sammy! Don't do this to me!" I picked a corner and kept running.

"Sammy!" I paused, and looked down the yards on the block.

"Sammy! Where'd you go Sam-Sam?" I yelled, turning a corner.

I sighed in relief when I saw a tall man in plaid holding Sammy's collar. Oh my God— _There you are!_ "

The tall man dropped his phone, looking at me with wide eyes. I pulled my robe closed, and rushed towards my dog. I squatted down, grabbing his collar from the guy. "Oh you _scared me_ ," I scolded, kissing his head. I latched his leash to his collar, and stood up.

I was going to introduce myself, when I saw his expression; he looked like he saw a ghost. "Are you alright?" I asked, grasping his forearm. He looked down at my hand on his arm, then back at me.

The expression was gone instantly. "Uh, yeah, sorry." He gently shook my hand off, and gave me a stunning, sincere smile.

"Uh," he said, looking down at Sammy, who was playfully pacing around by our feet. "He's...He's a Berner, right?" I smiled.

"Yeah, most people think he's some kind of retriever mix." I admitted, rubbing between Sammy's ears. I glanced back up at the guy, and smiled a little more.

He was pretty good looking. Tall, all sturdy and muscled looking, and had nice eyes. Before my own, his eyes seemed to go from a bluish hazel, to a gold-flecked green.

"Oh, uh, I'm Nicole." I said, holding my hand out.

"Nicole." He repeated, slowly moving his large hand to shake mine. His strong brow was furrowed as he looked down at me.

I smiled a little, and laughed softly once. "This is where you say your name." I said in a loud whisper, leaning forward a little.

"Oh, uh, yeah," he chuckled, looking down and scratching the back of his neck for a second. "Sam...I'm Sam."

I groaned, my head lolling up to look at the sky. "Oh God..." I said, pressing a hand to my head.

"What is it?" Sam said, sounding pretty concerned.

" _Of course_ the cute guy who found my dog has the same name that I've been yelling through the neighborhood...I _swear_ I _could not_ be more embarrassed right now." I said, chuckling slightly at the end.

"It's Sam...You were yelling Sam _my_." The tall, flowing-hair-having man corrected.

I shrugged. " _Sam_ , _Sammy_ , either way I'm _incredibly_ embarrassed."

"Don't be." He said, hands in his pockets.

I glanced up at his face again, and felt a hot blush crawl up my cheeks. The look in his (pretty) eyes was so _intense_. It wasn't a threatening look or anything; I didn't feel like I needed to run. It was actually a naggingly familiar look; I felt like at any second I'd remember him from some class or from a concert or something.

"Well...This would normally be where I asked you for coffee, but I'm still in my jammies...So..." I trailed off, turning slightly towards the corner.

"Can I see you again?" Sam blurted out, one of his big hands reaching out to gently grab my arm. I looked between his nice face and his hand until he let go. "Sorry..."

"It's fine," I shrugged, yanking slightly on Sammy's leash as he tried to walk away. "I'm...I'm meeting some friends at the Mean Bean tomorrow. 10:00 am."

Sam nodded a little, putting his hand in his pocket. "I'll try 'nd be there."

"Great." I said with a bigger smile.

I looked over my shoulder at him as I walked away, back towards my house. "Nice to meet you Sammy!"

" _Sam_." He corrected me in a way that sounded automatic.

I giggled, running a hand through my hair. "Right...Right, you wanna be called _Sam_ , not Sam _my_."

Once the cute guy was out of earshot, I looked down at my dog, then started talking.

"I like him." I declared, nodding once. "Maybe I'll dress up a little...A skirt or something."

Sammy sneezed.

"Yeah...He _was_ wearing a _flannel_...I wonder if I still have that checked button up from a few years ago, when Jackson took me to that fall festival, the one with the hay ride...Eh, I wouldn't want to wear that anyway." I shrugged.

When we got home, I shut the door tightly behind me and kneeled down to take Sammy's lead off his collar. I narrowed my eyes at my pet. "Do you have some sort of hot-guy sensor I don't know about?"

Sammy tilted his head to the side.

I smiled and gently prodded his forehead. "I wish you could talk."

* * *

"You've called me 28 times today, Gabe, what do you want?" I asked into my phone, booting up my laptop on the coffee table.

" _Oh...You know...Just checkin' up on you._ "

I rolled my eyes. "Uh-huh, while I pretend that's true, why don't you tell me what's _really_ up with you?"

" _Nothin's up with me! Can't a big brother miss his little sister?_ " Gabe asked on the other end of the phone.

"Are you pouting?" I asked.

There was a pause. " _No._ "

"Yes you are!"

" _Am not!_ "

"I can practically hear you pout through the phone!" I laughed, typing my password in. "Look, I just called to let you know that I'm alive, eating and happy. I have three days left of nothing, so now you can leave me alone."

" _Nicole_ -"

"Good bye Gabe!" I half-yelled, hanging up on my big brother.

* * *

"Ok, it's official, Sammy." I sighed, putting a hand on my bare hip. "I have _nothing_ to wear."

I knew I was being weird about the whole thing; it was coffee with a guy who I didn't really know. I'd taken a look for that checked shirt I had from a few years ago, but I must have thrown it away. It was, after all, _flannel_.

The entire contents of my closet and dresser were strewed about my bed and bedroom floor. Sammy was happily lying on his dog bed, chewing on a rope bone, while I stood in my underwear and tried to get dressed.

"Ok, Sammy," I said, holding up two dresses from my closet in front of my body. "Which one?"

Sammy lifted up his big head and looked at me. Then he tilted his head to the right before barking.

"This one?" I asked, lifting the dress on the right. I looked down at it; it was blue with some white trim. I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"Oh what do you know?" I half-snapped, throwing both hangers on the bed. "They both probably look _gray_ to you anyway."

I grabbed my short robe from over the ledge of the loft and pulled it on. I tied it around my waist as I sat on my bed, and kicked a pair of green linen shorts. "Maybe I'm overthinking this," I sighed, scratching Sammy's neck when he lumbered past me. I watched his black and white tail switch as he slowly descended the staircase.

"Thanks for your _amazing_ help Sammy!" I called after him sarcastically.

I fell back on my bed, and basked in the colorful glow from the stain glass windows. Instead of laying on my soft comforter, I was laying on a variety of clothes.

An hour later, I cut my losses, threw on my favorite outfit, gave Sammy a kiss between the ears, and started walking towards the Mean Bean.

* * *

"Mocha latte with vanilla and extra whip." Willow said, holding the blue and brown paper cup towards me. It was her turn to buy; I waited outside, sitting on the low stone wall that surrounded the Mean Bean patio.

"Yeah...Thanks." I said, looking through the crowded square. The Mean Bean as situated around a large courtyard with some picnic benches and umbrellas and stuff. There was a guy I'd seen walk up from the street a few minutes earlier; I hadn't taken my eyes off him since I saw him.

"What are you looking at?" Willow asked, putting her coconut-smelling hair closer to my head to try to look where I was.

"I think I know that guy," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. I gestured to the guy vaguely, and Willow snorted.

"How can you know a guy like _that_ and still be single?" She asked, laughing.

She had a point; he was tall, broad shouldered and had a jawline that could cut glass.

"But I _do_ know him." I insisted, frowning a little.

"Look, Nicole, I'm sorry to break this to you, but-"

I cut her off. I'd put my coffee down, cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled.

"Hey! Hey Dean Winchester!"

I wasn't aware that I'd yelled a name until it had already left my mouth.

The guy stopped in his tracks and turned toward around.

"Oh." Willow managed to say, her eyebrows raised. "So...You do know him."

He was still looking around, for who yelled his name probably, and I put my hands down quickly so he wouldn't know it was me.

"Sorta...Well, not really." I said with my brow furrowed. "It's...It's a trippy situation."

Willow shrugged it off and began talking about her dissertation. She may look like a ditzy girl with perfect chestnut hair (and she acted like one sometimes) but she was a microbiology major and was smarter than a few of her professors. We walked around to a few shops in the courtyard, discussing little things, when I saw a tall man walking out of the Mean Bean.

"Hey, talk to you later, ok?" I told Willow quickly, jogging through the courtyard.

"Hi stranger," I said, falling into step next to him. Sam glanced down at me with a little half smile.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to show." Sam admitted. He had his own blue and brown Mean Bean paper cup in his hand, the other was jammed in his pocket.

"Yeah, well..." I trailed off with a shrug. "What can I say? I had a large mocha latte. Those things are so full of caffeine; you _can not_ expect me to sit still." I smiled a little, glancing up at him as I tossed my empty cup in a trash can we passed.

Sam gave a slight chuckle, just an amused breath through his nose, and a little half-smirk. "So..." He trailed off.

" _So_." I repeated, trying to keep a smile off my face. "Should we be having, like, _date_ talk, or it this more of a _friendly date_ situation?"

Sam shrugged, scraping his nail on the protective sleeve on his cup. "You remind me of someone." He finally said.

My brows rose up. "Oh...Girlfriend?" Sam shook his head. "Friend?"

Sam laughed once, and stopped scraping his nail on his cup. "More than a friend, less than a girlfriend."

"Ah..." I said, nodding. "Sounds complicated."

"More than you know." Sam said with a little half-smile. Since his face was turned towards me, I took the opportunity to study his face. Looking the slightest bit self conscious, Sam glanced away then back at me. "What?"

"Do I know you from somewhere?" I asked, crossing my arms as we walked, and got a confused look from Sam. "I just...I _swear_ I've seen you before."

"I have one of those faces." Sam said dismissively, tossing his coffee away in a trashcan we passed; there were a lot lining the sidewalk around the park.

I snorted. "Yeah, sure you do." I said sarcastically.

"I do!" Sam said defensively, struggling not to smile.

"Then _clearly_ you've never seen yourself in a mirror." I laughed, walking closer to him to gently shove his big arm with my elbow. We both chuckled for a while longer, then lapsed into silence.

"Are you sure we've never met before?" I asked him again. "Because you seem _really_ familiar."

"I told you," Sam said with a shrug. "I just have one of those faces."

* * *

Sam was _amazing_.

He went to Stanford pre-law, but left to help his brother find their dad. He ate a lot of salad which his meat-guzzling brother gave him crap for. He hated clowns. He was funny, in a dry, sarcastic way. He didn't like that I called him 'cute' once, but when I called him 'ruggedly, kick-in-your pants gorgeous,' he didn't seem to like that either.

The nagging feeling that I knew him kept jumping up as we walked around and talked; it was like I was more tuned into him that I was the rest of the world. It was like I could sense how _good_ he was. Even though we didn't get into _his_ life a whole lot, I felt like I knew already; he'd been through so much pain and hurt, but he could still smile and mean it.

I met up with Sam a little after 10:30, and it was getting dark now. I didn't really want to say goodbye, but I had to get home to let Sammy out. I added _gentlemen_ to the list, when Sam said he'd walk me home; said he was 'worried about me walking home in the dark.' As a grown woman I felt it was a little condescending, but Sam was hot and I let it go.

" _This_ is where you live?" Sam asked, mildly shocked.

I laughed once. "Yeah...My brother picked it out." I explained vaguely as I unlocked the door. Sammy, barking slightly, ran out the door quickly to the grass.

"You have a brother?" Sam asked, walking up the steps to stand on the one below me, leaning on the railing.

"Yeah, two." I explained, copying his pose against the other side of the railing. "Gabe and Chris. Chris is an Army captain overseas, and Gabe is a..." I trailed off, thinking.

"Well, I'm not really sure what Gabe does. Something in an office that requires him to travel a lot and pays a lot." I shrugged. "But he's always here at Christmas and my birthday, so..." I trailed off, shrugging.

Sammy brushed up against our legs as he went back into the house. Now, I didn't have the excuse of my dog to stay around him, so I stood from the railing and brushed a hand through my blond hair. "I...I had a nice time with you, Sam," I said honestly, taking a little step towards him.

"Yeah...Yeah, me too." Sam said with a nod and a _small_ smile. The awkwardness wasn't painful. I was actually a little sad to leave him. I gave him a smile and turned towards my door.

"Goodnight Nikki." I heard Sam say under his breath.

I spun around. "What?"

"Hm?" Sam asked. He was on the ground now, looking up at me with his hands in his pockets.

"What'd you call me?" I asked, going down a few steps towards him.

"Uh, Nikki...I called you Nikki." Sam explained, shrugging slightly. "You know, 'cause you name is _Nicole_."

I was standing in front of him now, two steps up, so I was a little taller than him. "No one's ever called me Nikki before." I said, my brows furrowed as I thought. "No one but..." _the guy doing me in my dream._

After I trailed off, Sam just looked up at me; I was about three inches taller than him. The moonlight caught his eyes, making them seem brighter. The flecks of green, gold and brown sat in the serene blue. His eyes were seared in my brain, but they'd been there before I met him. I _swear_ they were there before I met him.

"What is it, Nikki?" Sam asked. his voice was quieter, and took on a rough quality that made my breath hitch.

 _I know you damnit!_

I grabbed the collar of Sam's jacket and yanked him towards me until our lips were smashed together. Sam didn't even hesitate; one hand went to the back of my neck, the other grabbed at my waist and pulled me closer. My hands greedily traced his face and yanked at his hair and his hands tightened in their respective places.

When we finally pulled apart for air, I looked down at him, panting, lips parted. It was near dark, so the light from my open door was all I had to see him by. His grip didn't loosen, and I was glad he didn't.

I hoped that any second that I would recognise him; that he would say something and I would remember running into him at the gas station or something.

" _Nikki_." Sam said under his breath, flexing his grip on my hip. I shivered—actually shivered—when he said that. I let out this breathy little gasp, and let my head fall forward so our foreheads were pressed together.

I stayed there a second, then opened my eyes. I leaned back and took my hands away from his body. He frowned, and it only deepened when I took his hands away from my hair and side. I squeezed his large hands in mine, and took a step backwards up the steps. I gently tugged his hands, and gave him a little smile. He got the idea, and took a step up towards me. When we got inside my house, I pushed the door shut, and leaned against it.

Well, I didn't so much _lean against_ it as I was _shoved against_ it. I giggled around Sam's lips and pushed his jacket to the floor.

Sammy barked a few times as we stumbled towards the steps to my loft bedroom. I felt around, keeping my eyes on Sam, and shoved the plastic container of dog food off the table and onto the floor. Sammy gladly went to the open, overturned container and I was gladly letting Sam support most of my weight as he did amazing, indescribable things with his hands and lips on various parts of my body.

When we got to the steps, Sam hoisted me up so my legs were wrapped around my waist and his hands were under my butt. He took one step towards the stairs, and jammed my back into the railing.

"Oh _crap_ —Nicole I'm-"

"Shh..." I said, pressing a finger to Sam's lips as I slowly slid down his body so my feet were on the floor again.

"How 'bout you let me walk?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Ah-ha! Next chapter!**

 **Two updates this week should keep you cupcakes until the next update; next Wednesday.**

 **Warning: Sorta kinda slightly smutty. Well, maybe not _smutty_. Think of it as a PG-13 movie that parents regret letting their 12-year-old watch. **

**Enjoy!**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Nicole POV

I fell back onto my pillows with a gasp and Sam limply fell next to me; both of us were sweaty, naked, panting, and I don't know about him, but I was sore as hell. Through the heavy breathing in the room, I heard Sam chuckle.

"You still with me?" He asked.

"Well..." I said, about to laugh myself. "I didn't pass out again, if that's what you're asking."

He laughed a little harder. "Hey, I said I'm sorry."

"You wouldn't need to say you're sorry if you did that to me on the bed like I said instead of on against the wall." I half-laughed, pulling a sheet over my chest.

In response was a tired, smug chuckle. "If I knew you were the fainting type, I would have." I reached over and pinched one of the reddish-purple bruises forming on his chest. He yelped ' _Ow!_ ' through some laughs.

"How'd you do that anyway?" I asked. I'd gotten my breath back, and propped myself up on my elbow. I held the sheet over my chest with one hand, and looked down at his sweaty face; his longer hair was damp, and pushed away from his face. The light from the moon outside was filtering through the stain glass, but other than that it was dark.

"Make you pass out?" Sam asked, copying my pose. Only he pulled the shoot over his bottom half instead of his chest; if he had covered that glorious chest up, I would have pounced on him. Again. "The alphabet."

"The _alphabet_?" I repeated, laughing once.

"Yeah, you know," Sam raised one hand up, and began tracing letters in the air with his finger. "The alphabet."

"Ah," I realized, nodding once, smiling a little. It slowly turned into a dirty little smirk.

"So, does the alphabet work with your fingers too?" I asked, reaching forward to grasp his large hand, pushing my fingers through his.

Sam chuckled once, catching my tone. "I'm sure it does," he admitted, pushing our intertwined hands back so he was hovering me. "But my go-to move is numbers."

I laughed once as my other hand was grabbed by Sam's. He intertwined our fingers and brought them up so they were pressed to the side of my head like our other hands. "Start at 100 and go down." He further explained, his lips brushing my jaw and neck. Both his hands left mine, trailed up my arms, over my collarbones and dipped under the sheet.

"Don't you _dare_ make me pass out again." I managed to get out.

"No promises, Nikki." Sam responded. I inhaled sharply and arched up towards him. Sam used this to his advantage, and smashed his mouth to mine, muffling the groan I let out.

* * *

Omniscient POV

While Sam was going on a date with Nikki's doppleganger, Dean was still working the case that brought them there in the first place, but he'd hit a dead end. Sam did the research, and Dean was fine with that. But when the lead was slim to begin with, and Sam wasn't there, _that's_ when Dean got irritated.

It was a little after two that Dean pulled the Impala in front of the address Sam texted a few hours ago. He snorted once; the place was a friggen _church_. The old Nikki would have gotten a kick out of it.

It's taken a while, but Sam convinced Dean to at least walk past the coffee shop. Dean was thinking Sam was still grieving, but then he heard her. Dean heard Nikki call his name in the middle of the place; he was skeptical, but he believed.

Dean sat in the car for an hour, staring at the dark apartment. He checked his phone. Yup, Sam had texted him to be outside at 2:15. It was almost 3now.

A light turned on inside, and the door opened. A big dog ran out the door, and Sam came out after. He was pulling a t-shirt over his head, yanking the hem over his low slung jeans. He hadn't bothered to put his belt on, or his shoes, to walk down the driveway to lean through the open window of the Impala.

"What's up?" Sam asked, leaning an arm on the top of the car to lean down to talk to his brother.

"A whole lot 'a nuthin.'" Dean groaned. He jerked his head towards 'Nicole's house. "Looked into her."

"What'd you find?" Sam asked, leaning on the door as Dean handed him some papers.

"Nicole Lani, 25, enrolled at Yale, has been for the last six years. She's getting her masters this year." Dean rattled off.

"Six years?" Sam asked, getting a nod. "Maybe it's a filing error. Did you talk-"

"-to her freshman professors?" Dean finished for him, nodding. "Already did. Most said that Nicole was a great student."

Sam just nodded, looking at what Dean got on 'Nicole.' Transcripts, work-study forms, community service applications; on paper, 'Nicole Lani' was close to perfect.

"Sam she's real." Dean said when Sam remained silent. "She looks a hell'a'va lot like Nik, but Nicole Lani is real."

"Never said she wasn't real, Dean," Sam half-sighed, sounding a little irritated. He jammed the papers back together and handed them to Dean. "She...She's _Nikki_."

"How the hell do you know, man?" Dean asked, yanking the papers back. Sam clenched his jaw briefly, and worked his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"She...Dean she has the same _eyes_." Sam finally said. What he said, and how he said it, surprised his brother. Dean raised his eyebrows and leaned back at Sam's words. "She's in there, Dean. I can see it in her eyes...How she walks, the way she smiles, her sense of humor, the way she-...Nikki's in there. I know it."

Dean laughed once. "That was...That was _beyond_ a chick flick moment, Sammy."

"Shut up...Jerk." Sam muttered, getting off the car.

Leaning out the window, Dean called 'Bitch!' as loudly as he could without risking waking the neighbors.

* * *

Nicole POV

I rolled over, flinging my arm to throw it across Sam's back. It hit bare mattress. I looked over and frowned. I sat up, and saw his clothes were gone from my floor. I let out a sad sigh.

I've never had a real serious relationship; seven months was my reccord. There were a few sporadic dates, and, roughly, one in five went with me; of _that_ , three in seven left as soon as they could.

I didn't think Sam would be like that, honestly. Morning the loss, I swung my legs out of bed, found my underwear and pulled a hoodie over my head. The more I thought about it, the more a sad, crushing pain wrapped around my heart. I knew him _less than a day_ ; I shouldn't feel _this_ sad about it.

I was fighting to get my wavy blonde hair into a braid as I went down the stairs. I was just about to tie it off with the hair tie from around my wrist when my door opened.

Sammy ran in first, followed by Sam.

Sam ran a hand over his face. As it fell, he saw me and smiled. "Hey...Did I wake you up?"

Wordlessly, I shook my head, continuing down the steps. Sam looked like he was about to say something, but I took a few skip-like steps to close the distance between us. I reached up, gently cupped his jaw and gave him a chaste, soft kiss. Sam reciprocated the gentle movements; one hand held the back of my neck and the other rested on my hip. The lower hand moved to the small of my back. It pressed harder as he leaned down more so I wasn't stretching up on my tiptoes.

When we parted, Sam brushed hair from my face and gave me one of those smiles; they were soft, just the turn up of the corners of his lips, but they were surprisingly intense and full of feeling.

"What was that for?" He asked, not letting me go.

I gave a tiny smile. "Most guys would have left by now."

He laughed once. "You thought I _left_?"

"Yeah." I shrugged.

Sam shook his head and wrapped his arms around me, pressing me to him. I rested my cheek on his firm, warm chest and felt my fingers curl into the material of his shirt over his waistband. I sighed when Sam kissed my hairline.

"I'm not leavin' just yet, Nicole." He said quietly. I smiled, and turned to press a kiss through his t-shirt to whatever part of his chest I was leaning on.

"Good." I mumbled, finally pulling away from him. "I'm hungry, are you hungry?"

Sam laughed once and followed me to the kitchen. He leaned on the counter as I searched the cupboards and the fridge. Since I'd been home for four-ish days, I'd gone through most of my snacks.

"Hey." He said, making me turn around. Sam had gone through the basket on my counter, and pulled out a menu. "Chinese food?"

The menu was for _Golden Panda_ , and 24-hour place downtown. I shrugged indifferently. "Sure, you like Chinese food?"

"You're the one with the menu. Don't _you_ like Chinese food?" Sam asked, looking on the other side of the menu.

"Well, I don't _dis_ like it," I reasoned, copying his pose; hip on the counter. "Places around here pay middle schoolers to hang theos on doorknobs. Never been there."

"Let's try it. They deliver." Sam said, going around the counter to find his jacket on the floor. As he bent over, going through the pockets for his phone, I leaned on the island and admired his ass.

He must have sensed he was being watched, because he looked over his shoulder at me. I just smirked, making him chuckle. Sam called the restaurant, and ordered for both of us (like I told him).

"Should be here in 30 minutes." Sam told me after hanging up. He tossed his phone on the table and came over to me. I'd perched myself up on the island, my legs dangling off the side.

"Hm...What to do for _30 minutes_..." I trailed off, putting a mock-thinking look on my face, even going as far as to tap my finger on my chin.

Sam, smirking, leaned over me, resting his hands on either side of my thighs. He playfully narrowed his eyes. "Is that a challenge?"

"Considering my experience with your work," I started, reaching forward. I rested my forearms on his shoulders, crossing my hands behind his neck to press into his shoulder blades. I finished my thought "No, its not a challenge."

I pulled him towards me and didn't stop even after we were kissing. I was usually a little more submissive when it came to sex; I let the guy have his fun, _then_ have my own. With Sam, though...The fight was _fun_.

Our tongues were battling against each other, and both of us were doing whatever we could to win. I pulled on his hair, making him groan. Sam slid a hand up my hoodie and pressed a searing hand to the small of my back, making me let out a breathy sigh. I boldly hooked a leg around him and yanked his forwards. Sam pulled my hoodie over my head. I unbuttoned his jeans. He sucked on my neck and I'm positive he left a hickey. I dragged my nails over his shoulders, leaving angry red lines.

By the time Sam was fiddling with my bra clasp and I had a hand down his pants, the doorbell rang.

I pulled away from his lips and smiled. "If you pull away now I win."

He batted my hand out of his waistband and zipped up. "I'll live." Sam said, pressing a quick, hard kiss to my lips before he grabbed his wallet and went to the door.

I got off the counter and out of sight from the door; I _was_ only in my ballerina pink bra and some black panties. I found Sam's flannel on the floor and pulled it over my shoulders. The sleeves were so long I had to push them up to my elbows just to button it.

A wonderful smell wafted through my first floor, and I spun around to see Sam carrying a plastic bag holding a paper bag. He dropped it on the coffee table and sat on the sofa. I let out a surprised squeak when Sam reached up, grabbed my hips and yanked me down to him. He'd sat close to the end of the sofa, and he'd pulled me down so my butt was on the sofa and the bottom of my back was against the arm of the sofa. My legs were over Sam's lap and I pressed my heels to his thighs so my knees were bent up.

Sam handed me a classic white and red Chinese food container and a pair of chopstick, took out two containers for himself, then he stretched his long legs over the coffee table.

I found the TV remote and flipped through channels until I found a channel playing an X-Files marathon.

"So, what'd you get me?" I asked as I opened my container.

"Teriyaki pork," Sam told me, opening his own container.

* * *

"Scully is _totally_ kickass." I said, my mouth full of egg roll.

"Mm-hm..." Sam sighed.

It was hours later (the sun was just starting to rise), and I was still half in Sam's lap. I'd polished off my pork a while ago, and teased Sam until he gave up his egg rolls. Sam had slouched down some, and his head was lolled towards me. One arm as over my thighs, hanging limply over the side of the sofa, and the other was trailing lazily up and down my calfs.

Once I finished my last egg roll, I brushed my fingers off and scooted around until I was comfortably cuddled to Sam's side. He moved the arm that had been over my thighs to wrap around my shoulders. I sighed contently, my fingers instinctively wrapped around the material of his t-shirt as I snuggled to his warmth.

"What was she like?" I asked. I felt like I had to whisper about the subject.

"Who?" Sam asked through an exhale. The arm around me moved so he could play with the end of my blonde braid and the other continued to graze over my thighs.

"The girl I remind you of." I further explained.

Sam's hands stopped moving, and I felt every body part of his I touched tense. Slowly, I looked up at his face. The moving, flashing lights from the TV danced across his face. Sam seemed ery deep in thought.

"I think you would've liked her." Sam finally said, his hands resuming movement. He used the same quiet tone I did. "She was...She was _strong_.

"She was my best friend...She was my brother's best friend too...Her life just kind of kept throwing crap at her and she kept taking it 'till she could throw it back." Sam said, nodding a little at the end. I waited for him to say something else.

"I don't wanna push, but it that all I'm gonna get?" I asked, trying to keep my tone light.

"She died."

My brows lifted slightly. "I'm..I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pried."

Sam shook his head. "No...No, it's fine."

I put my head back on his shoulder. Slowly, my eyelids began to droop lower and lower until they were closed. I could still hear the sounds of the X-Files playing in the background, and Sam's steady heartbeat under my ear.

A thought crossed my mind that made me want to smile.

 _This feels right._

* * *

Omniscient POV

While Sam and 'Nicole' were cuddling on a cashmere sofa, Dean was batting spiderwebs of his face as he walked through an abandoned boathouse.

In New Haven County, Connecticut there were very few places a Djinn would like to keep its victims. Dean had made a list of places to check, and had been going through cobwebs all night; so far the first three places he checked out were torn down. Now he was at the Choate Lake House. It used to be part of a private school in the 70s, but when the dam broke, the lake drained and the lake house didn't have a lake anymore.

Dean already cleared the drydock and the massive brick building used for storing boats in the winter, the two above ground floors of the lake house and as now on the basement. He had a flashlight in one hand, and a silver dagger dipped in lamb's blood in the other.

He found a few rotten books, some jars that Dean hoped were filled with moonshine (opposed to the alternative), and what looked like a dead possum. No Djinn, no victims.

" _Damn_." Dean said once he got to the far end of the basement. He kicked a box in frustration, then headed back up the stairs. He paused for a second by the front door; there was a pile of dirty magazines that looked like they were bought in the early 80s.

As Dean walked back to the Impala, he passed the open, big door of the dry dock. There was a yacht in the dry dock that had seen better days. It was about 30 feet long, and the ladder to the deck was against the side. He'd checked the dry dock bay and the control room, but not the boat _in_ the dry dock.

Dean took the silver knife out again, and walked towards the ladder. The desk was rotten and beat down from years of rain; the steps down to the cabin were so rotten out Dean just jumped down. One of his feet almost went right through the floor.

The cabin was dark; Dean moved to take his flashlight out. He lowered his gaze to work the flashlight out of his pocket, and was slammed back into the rotted steps.

In less than a second, Dean was on the floor and the djinn had escaped without being seen.

On the floor, Dean took a second to right himself, and let out a long string of swearwords.

 _At least he knew he was in the right place now._

He kept his gaze up this time and got his flashlight. The cabin was rotted and broken. Keeping his head low to avoid hitting the low ceiling, Dean headed towards the bunks at the back. Three kids had been found, and there were three empty bunks. In the fourth, there was a twenty-sumthin' girl unconscious with her hands locked in crudely made shackles attached to the head of the bunk. Dean checked for a pulse; weak or not, it was there.

Dean did a thorough check of the yacht before leaving. As he climbed down the ladder, he called the police department.

"Hey, I'd like to report a missing person." He said, rolling his left shoulder back; the djinn must have stepped on it or something, 'cause it hurt like hell.

" _When was the last time you saw this person?_ " The operator asked.

"Oh, no. I found somebody who's missing." Dean explained, a _slight_ smartass smirk on his phone and tone in his voice. "Blonde girl in her 20s, dolphin tattoo on her left shoulder. She's in the yacht in the dry dock at the abandoned lake house."

" _Can I have your name sir?_ "

"Yeah, you gotta pen?" Dean asked, then snapped his phone shut.

* * *

Dean was in front of 'Nicole's house again. It was a little after eight in the morning, but 'Nicole' and Sam had only gotten up half an hour ago. Now, they were making pancakes in her kitchen.

Actually, _now_ they were flicking flour at one another.

Sam and whatever version of Nikki he was with made a nice couple. The whole situation was **still** _dysfunctional as hell_ , but they made a nice couple.

Dean pulled the visor down and looked at the photo he'd on the inside. Using two paperclips, the picture of Nikkie between Sam and Dean was held to the visor. Trevor had given Sam the three pictures Nikki had in her glove compartment; Sam had the one of her eating on the hood of her Mustang in his wallet, and the one of her and Chris was pinned to a wall by Bobby's desk.

Dean looked from the dark haired girl in the blurry photograph, to the bubbly blonde in the church-apartment. As much as he hated the words, Sam was right.

Nikki was in there somewhere.


	7. Chapter 7

***UNEDITED***

Nicole POV

I woke up slowly, and smiled into my sheets at the memories of the last 24 hours. I sat up slowly, reveling in the feeling of Sam's soft flannel on my skin. After finding a clean pair of underwear, I lazily started to walk down the stairs. I stopped halfway when I heard Sam speaking, and a rougher voice response. I quietly went down a few more steps and saw Sam by the door.

He had the door open, and was speaking to a man through the screen door. It was the guy I called to in the courtyard yesterday, the one I, for some reason, called _Dean Winchester_ , the name the voice in my head said a few days ago.

"I'm all for my little brother gettin' some, but there's a _djinn_ out there that we have to deal with." 'Dean' said lowly.

"I can't leave her, Dean." Sam responded. Huh; his name _was_ Dean. "I can't leave her for a hunt _again_."

"It's not even the real Nik, Sam." Dean half-snapped. " _Yeah_ , I think something weird is going on in her head, but she's not _her_."

"Yeah, she _is_ , Dean." Sam insisted. "Nikki's in there."

"How do you know?" Dean snapped back.

"You really wanna know? _Well_ , Nikki did this thing where she put her hand between my-"

" _Ew_ , dude! Seriously! I _don't_ wanna think of Nikki doin' _that_!" Dean cut Sam off.

"What's goin' on?" I finally said, announcing myself. I slowly went down the rest of the stairs, with both Sam's and Dean's eyes on me. "Sam?" I asked, looking up at him as I got closer.

He looked at me with those intense kaleidoscope eyes as he swallowed. I stared up at him for what seemed like a really long time. Sam's large, warm hand came to rest on my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone and his fingers curling under my jaw.

"I can't lose you twice." Sam finally said in a low voice. My brows furrowed at his words.

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed the screen door open, making Sammy bark and run up to the new friend who walked in. Dean batted my dog away, making me frown. "Take a seat Nikki, we have a lot to talk about."

I watched as Dean walked through my first floor to raid my fridge. I looked back up at Sam, who had a mildly irritated look on his face. "What's going on?" I asked again.

"The...Last night when I told you about the girl you remind me of," Sam explained, grabbing his wallet from the table. "Her name was Nikki."

Before I could snap anything at him for calling me by his dead girlfriend's name, he handed me a folded picture from his wallet. Sam flattened it out and held it out to me.

A girl was sitting crosslegged on a vintage car with two orange stripes over the hood. She was wearing an army green canvas cargo jacket, jeans, boots and what looked like a ratty tank top. Her hair was dark and curly—curly like mine when I didn't straighten it—and was shoved over her shoulder. She had chopsticks in one hand, and a white and red Chinese food container in the other. She was smiling wide at the camera, making her nose wrinkle when she smiled; just like mine did when I smiled.

I laughed once, taking the picture; I thought it was fake. But the more I looked at it, the more I saw that it was real. I pressed a hand to my temple, where a dull pain was starting to throb.

"What-What the hell is this?" I asked, looking back at Sam.

"A picture taken of you a year and a half ago." Sam explained. "It was taken somewhere in Kentucky..."

"A year and a half ago I was in France for my semester abroad." I corrected him, holding the picture back out to him.

"No you weren't." Dean said from the kitchen, popping the cap off a bottle of beer I don't remember buying from my fridge. "You were driving around with us."

"So, the painting over there-" I gestured towards the framed portrait of the Eiffel Tower. "- _wasn't_ a gift from my host family."

"When was the last time you talked to them?" Sam asked. "It was before you left, right?"

"I have their phone number, I can call them whenever I want to!" I insisted.

"Go on then," Sam urged sarcastically, taking my landline and holding it out to me. "Call them."

I glared at him and grabbed the phone from him. I took it with me to my desk and pulled out my address book. I flipped through it until I found the number. I dialed for an international call, keeping my back to the men in my house, then dialed the number. I got a beeping noise, then a French voice telling me the number wasn't valid.

"No one's there, right?" Sam asked as I slowly put the phone down.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked quietly, pressing a hand to my head again.

"We're telling you the truth," Sam insisted, putting a hand on my shoulder. His large, warm palm and fingers curled around my small shoulder easily; it was like he'd been doing it forever.

"No-" I barely got the words out before Dean slapped a file on the table.

Sam was trying to speak to me before I opened the manilla file open, but I ignored him. I let out a strangled gasp and threw the pictures down. With my hands over my nose and mouth, I stumbled back until my thighs hit the back of the sofa.

It was me.

The girl had dark hair, but she was _me_.

She was wearing an army green canvas cargo jacket, and her entire chest was bloody. It was as if someone went at her with a chainsaw. Her guts and organs were spilled over her torso, and her head was lolled to the side so her blank, waxy, expressionless face was looking at me. There were bruises on her face, and a smear of blood under her nose. Dark red, almost black, dried blood was over her lips with two clean trails over the corners of her mouth. They trailed over her cheeks, and the left trail went into her curly hair.

"Nicole, calm down." Sam said sternly.

I was gasping for air behind my hands. The pain in my head was throbbing harder. I pinched my eyes shut and shook my head from side to side, chanting _No no no no_ over and over.

"This life you have, living in a church, going to college and the _dog_ , it isn't _real_ , Nik!" Dean half-yelled at me.

Sam spoke before I could. "Look, there are things in the world that aren't... _good_ , and we can get into that later, but _now_ , we're telling you that you had a whole other life."

"What?" I half yelled at him.

"You were Nicollette Blake, or _Nikki_." Sam said calmly. "I-I don't know what happened, but you don't remember the last few years—you don't remember meeting us."

"That's because I didn't know you 'till you found my dog!" I yelled back at him.

"You have a scar on your left are? 'Bout three inches long, cures from the inside to the outside?" Dean asked, taking a swig of beer.

My brows furrowed; I was wearing long sleeves, there was no way he could see that scar. "I...I got it..."

"Where?" Dean pressed, walking closer. "Where'd you get that scar, Nikki?"

"My name's _Nicole_." I insisted, making Dean roll his eyes.

"Nikki just listen to us-!" Sam started.

"No!" I yelled at him. "You're saying that my whole life, my brothers, adoptive parents, friends—even my _dog_ —are _fake_?"

"We're saying you used to be someone else." Sam corrected me. "You used to be _Nikki_ —You ate Chinese food and told dirty jokes. You used to sharpen your knife when you got bored, you drove over the speed limit, hated light beer, only drank black coffee with too much sugar, didn't like to be called by your full name and you _saved people_!"

"You need to go." I got out; my head was pounding.

Dean rolled his eyes and put the beer down. As he passed Sam on his way to the door, he mumbled something like 'I told you it was too soon.' Sam was looking at me with pleading eyes.

"Nik-Nicole, please you have to _remember_." He pleaded with me. I'd dropped the picture on the table. He took it and held it out to me. "I don't know what happened to you, but you _need to_ remember her-"

As he spoke, I walked him closer to the door. I gave him a shove to the door, and yanked the picture from his hands.

" _This_ is all I'm going to do with _her_." I said, tearing the picture in half. I threw it at Sam's chest and slammed the door shut. I locked the knob, deadbolt and put the chain on the door.

My head was pounding with pain, and I slid to the floor. Sammy came to my side, nuzzling his furry body to my side. I hugged his neck tightly and let him lick my cheek. I frowned as something wet, that wasn't Sammy's slobber, on my face. I wiped under my eyes and frowned at the tears.

I was angry, not sad. Sam and Dean were _clearly_ crazy, so why was I _crying_?

* * *

A few times during the day, people knocked on my door.

Sam knocked and stood there for a good hour after I slammed my door in his face; Dean knocked a few times too. The mailman knocked once or twice for a package; it was probably the floral dress I ordered from a shop in Milwaukee for graduation in a few months. Willow knocked once, _literally_ once, then left.

All through that, I sat by my door, my back pressed to the seam of the door and the wall. Sammy came and laid next to me. He rested his head between my pulled-up knees and chest. When I didn't pet him, he pawed my leg. I latched onto my massive dog and didn't let go for hours.

I remembered my road trip with Gabe before I went to college.

I remembered going to the mystery spots, eating at the 'possessed hot dog stands' and singing along to 90s music with my older brother.

I didn't, however, remember getting wristbands for the mystery spots, waiting in line to touch the clairvoyant crystal in South Dakota, or even sleeping in the hotels we stayed at. I didn't remember eating breakfast in the hotel, stopping at gas stations or even changing clothes.

Sammy whimpered as I started to cry, and nuzzled my neck with his silky head.

I ran my fingers over his ears and down his back.

At least _Sammy_ was real; I remember every single second I spent with him.

* * *

Omniscient POV

Zack was still getting used to the new body he'd acquired few months before. His previous one had been through an altercation with a Russian hooker and a two-by-four and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't quite get the shattered bones in his jaw to get back in the right place.

He ditched Blondie in the woods, and found a nice candidate in northern Alberta. The guy was a logger, and became paralyzed from the neck down when a truck turned over, sending a massive tree on his torso. Zack grabbed the guy from the ICU, gave him a shave and a haircut, and now no Russian hooker would even _think_ about whipping him across his face with a bed post.

By the time he was back in commission, Dean Winchester was dead, Sammy-boy was off doing God-knows-what, and Nikki was missing. Zack volunteered to look for Nikki; he'd be a little nicer than other demons out for her. After six weeks, he was reassigned to follow Sam.

He'd never praised a God he didn't believe in so much in his life When Sam Winchester showed up with his _brother_ and _found Nikki._

Zack had 'borrowed' the next door house to keep an eye on Sam and Nikki (this new Nikki was a bit of a slut; sleeping with a guy she just met). Sam and Dean left a while ago. He told his boss, then sat back to wait for Nikki to leave and follow her.

Sam and Dean left around 10 am, it was well past 6:30 in the evening, and Nikki hadn't left. She hadn't even opened the door to let that mutt out to do it's business. When 9 rolled around, Zack cut his losses.

The house he was staying at blonged to Hope Oliver; a divorcee who liked men in suits. Zack gave Hope one more kiss, ignored her pleas for him to stay, and had a new suit on with the snap of his fingers.

He jogged across the street and peered into the windows of _Nicole's_ church apartment, and saw nothing. Taking a deep breath, Zck prepared himself to cross the threshold of a church. It wasn't impossible for a demon like him, but it wasn't exactly _easy_. He turned the doorknob, and with his extra strength, he turned it so hard that the deadbolt pushed through the wood.

Pushing the door open, Zack peered into the house.

The big black, white and orangey-red dog ran up to him. Zack waved a dismissive hand towards the dog, who rolled over and barked happily, wanting Zack to rub his belly.

Nikki was on the floor. The jacket he'd seen Sam wear when he went into Nikki's apartment the night before was haphazardly next to her. As Zack went closer, he examined how Nikki was on the floor. His best guess was that she'd been carrying the jacket, then collapsed onto her stomach.

Zack squatted down next to her. It was weird seeing Nikki with blonde hair. She had something shiny wound around her fingers; Zack had to pry her fingers apart to look at the necklace.

His brown brows furrowed at the worn chain the two oval pendants hung on. They were saints or something, but he'd already dismissed the necklace to the floor. He checked Nikki's pulse, and used the pad of his thumb to gently lift her eyelid.

"Damn." Zack sighed, letting her lid go back down.

He _really_ didn't want to have to involve the Winchesters.

* * *

Sam and Dean were walking out of an abandoned office building around midnight. Dean was wiping the bloody knife he'd used to stand the djinn on a rag he snagged from a janitor's bucket, and Sam had a roll of clear tape. He was carefully trying to fix the picture 'Nicole' ripped by trying to line it up and tape it.

"Hey, maybe it's better this way." Dean shrugged as he pushed the glass door with _**CONDEMNED**_ spray painted over it. "Nikki was never built to be a hunter...Couldn't even reach the top shelf of Bobby's cupboards.

Looking at the picture, Sam shrugged. He carefully put it back in his wallet, and got in the passenger's seat without a word. He was thinking a lot though; _in the week Dean was dead,_ _ **he**_ _reached the top shelf for Nikki._

By the time Sam said anything, they were on their way out of town. Dean pulled into a gas station, got out of the car pretty quick and made a beeline for the bathroom, leaving Sam to get gas. He'd just put the nozzle in the car when someone cleared their throat.

A dark haired guy in a _very_ expensive looking suit was leaning against the dirty side of the building. Sam couldn't get a good look at his face because of the newspaper he was holding. He didn't say anything, so Sam turned away.

He cleared his throat again, and Sam turned to look at him. The guy still said nothing.

By the fifth time the guy cleared his throat, Sam was a little annoyed.

" _What?_ " Sam snapped, turning to the guy a fifth time.

Instead of answering, he waved his hand somewhat dismissively, and a happy bark made Sam straighten up. One corner of his mouth turned up in a tiny bit of a smile as he got to one knee to catch the big Berner that was bounding towards him from the other side of the building. Sammy put a massive paw on Sam's knee to lick his face. He was scratching Sammy's silky neck when he realized what exactly he was doing.

He checked the dog's tags twice. Etched into the purple tag was _N. Lani_ along with Nicole's address. Sam looked back up at the guy with a death glare. "Who are you?"

The man folded up his paper and chuckled once. "I know you Winchester's see a lot of demons, but you really don't recognise _me_?"

Sam stood, keeping a grip on Sammy's collar, and looked more closely at the guy. Even if a demon switched bodies, there were signs to look for; how they stood, how they spoke...

With narrowed eyes, Sam took a guess. "Zack."

The dark haired man smirked. "I'm sorry, the correct answer is _Who is Zack?_ "

Sam reached into the open trunk and aimed the sawed-off shotgun at Zack, who rolled his eyes. "I've been nothing but nice to you Winchesters, and _this_ is the thanks I get."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

"Same thing you are," Zack said with a shrug. He got off the wall, brushed off his suit, and took a few steps towards Sam and the Impala. "Looking for your little girlfriend."

"Found 'er." Sam said, throwing the shotgun back in the trunk. "She's gone."

Zack snorted. "Didn't your brother tell you about angels?" He asked, getting a narrow-eyed nod from Sam. "Then you should know they can do some pretty wild party tricks."

The hunter and the demon just stared at one another for a moment. Sam's grip was tight on Sammy's collar, and the dog whimpered, pawing at Sam's foot. "What happened?"

"I don't know specifics, but I know that she's unresponsive on her floor, last time I saw." Zack shrugged. "Might want to head back."

When Dean got back a few minutes later, Sam was still talking with Zack. Once they explained what was going on, Dean got in the driver's seat faster than Sam had ever seen.

* * *

Zack hung back with Sammy while the Winchester's went inside Nicole's church apartment. Sam went straight for Nikki on the ground while Dean cleared the rest of the place.

Sam was frantically looking over Nikki; checking her pulse, listening to her breathing, feeling over her neck to make sure she didn't snap it or something. He jumped back, startled, when he lifted Nikki's eyelid. A bright, burning blue flashed in front of Sam's face instead of the deep brown. It didn't even seem real; the blue was too deep, instead of a metaphorical light in Nikki's eyes, it was like there were flashlights shining in her head, and though it was beautiful, it was _terrifying_.

"I know, right?" Zack said from the door, laughing once. Dean shot the demon a look, and Sam ignored him altogether. He was leaning over Nikki with a hand gently stroking her cheek.

"Hey...C'mon... _Wake up_ Nikki." He said softly.

Nikki gasped and arched her back up suddenly. The gasp was a ragged, painfully choked inhale that stuttered now and then. Sam had seen Nikki's (and Nicole's) back arch enough to realized that it _must_ have hurt. When she fell back down, she was convulsing and shaking.

" _Dean!_ " Sam yelled, trying to keep Nikki still. He let Dean try to keep her legs down, while he put one arm over her shoulders, crossing her collarbone, to keep her torso down. His other hand forced her hands under her, then went to try and keep her neck stable.

This went on for a little more than half an hour. Nikki's back arched up suddenly, easily pushing Sam's weight with her, and she slumped down, motionless, to the ground again. Both brothers sat back, a little exhausted, and looked at each other.

Dean called Bobby and told him what was going on. Sam was sitting back on one hand, and the other was stroking the back of Nikki's hand.

"She was holding this when I found her." Zack said, taking the necklace out of the inner pocket of his jacket. He tossed it to Sam, who caught it easily. He examined the tarnished silver necklace and the to pendants. He'd taken it off before he met Nicole at the coffee place, and put it in his jacket pocket. She must have found it.

Sam pulled the necklace over Nicole's way (not curly) hair, and straightened it out over her neck so the pendants were between her collar bones.

* * *

In Sioux Falls, Bobby Singer was waiting with a shotgun and some holy water on his porch.

Dean called a few minutes ago and told him he and Sam found Nikki. With the condition she was in, they couldn't drive her to his place, and she couldn't stay in her place in New Haven. A voice in the back had suggested a rather unorthodox way to get Nikki to the panic room.

Zack, a demon Nikki met a while ago, was going to bring her to Bobby's.

A dark haired guy flashed onto Bobby's porch holding an unconscious blonde. Zack and Bobby just stared at each other for a moment. Bobby stood, and put his shotgun over his shoulder. He jerked his head to the door, gesturing for Zack to follow. Bobby took Zack down to the panic room, opened the door, and took Nikki from the demon, since he couldn't get in.

"Might wanna restrain her," Zack piped up from outside the room.

Bobby glared over his shoulder. "Why?"

Zack just raised his brow and crossed his arms. Grumbling under his breath, Bobby restrained Nikki's wrists and ankles with handcuffs connected to the side of the cot in the middle of the room. He stood straight and looked at Zack with an irritated 'So what?' look.

After bringing a loose fist to his mouth to cover his cleared throat, Zack spoke. " _Nikki._ "

Just like in New Haven, the blonde's chest arched up and she began thrashing around wildly. It went for only 15 minutes this time, then she slumped down, completely still.

Bobby frowned, and looked at Zack.

The demon nodded slightly. " _Weird_ , right?"

* * *

The Winchesters were still more than half a day from Bobby's. Zack was around Sioux Falls, going from bar to bar and seeing exactly how much alcohol it would take for him to get drunk. Bobby had dug up some walkie-talkies in his attic and was using them to monitor Nikki down in the panic room, but he'd fallen to sleep hours ago.

He didn't hear the soft, almost audible sound of fabric rusting.

In the panic room, there were now two people; the blonde Nikki passed out and cuffed to the cot, and the dark haired, trenchcoat clad man standing next to her.

Castiel turned his head slightly to one side. Since he let Gabriel take her several months ago, he'd been following his orders, and his orders were to get her back. His actions with Dean Winchester had taken him away from his search for some time, and Dean led him to her.

He raised a hand, fingers relaxed and splayed, and moved it towards Nikki's head. It pulled the left side of the oversized shirt she wore up to reveal parts of her pale pink underwear, the band of her matching bra, and her ribs. Castiel was focused on her ribs, not the exposed undergarments.

Gabriel had done a thorough job at erasing most of the identifying markings on Nikki's body; any obscure scars she'd gotten from her years with the Winchester's were gone, including the hellhound wounds and the remains of the mark over Nikki's ribs.

Of course, Castiel didn't call her 'Nikki' in his mind. She was _Concupivi Filia Celi Telum_ to him, and all other angels. Castiel reached down, and let his hand hover over her side. A light started in his palm, and connected with her skin.

Nikki whimpered as the angry red mark appeared again. It stretched across her ribs, and puckered over the rest of her smooth skin. Once the long scar was again on her skin, Castiel reached into his coat and pulled out a gold box. Before he arrived at Bobby Singer's home in Sioux Falls, Castiel had been in Egypt. There was a secret room known only to angels, as everyone else who knew of it was dead, in an undiscovered tomb. When Concupivi Filia Celi Telum fled from heaven without her grace, it was hidden away.

Castiel used the ankh on top of the box to lift the lid. Briefly, he admired the energy and power within the box. The Concupivi Filia Celi Telum's mother was human, and her father an angel. Normally, a union between the two resulted in a Nephilim, but not her's. Her human mother truly loved the angel with which she conceived Concupivi Filia Celi Telum, and the angel loved her as well. Their union created a being with both an angel's grace, and the soul of a human.

She, aside from God, was the most powerful being of the world.

Castiel lifted the box over Nikki's body, and began speaking Enochian. While he spoke, he tipped the box towards Nikki. The swirls of blue and gold light poured from the corner of the box like water, and pooled around the mark on her ribs. Castiel then said the most important part of the spell.

" _Welcome back, coveted daughter, weapon of heaven."_

Red symbols began to glow through the grace that pooled on her side. Blood trickled down her ribs as the symbols opened up, sucking the grace and soul in. Once it was all inside her body, Nikki coughed out a whimper.

Castiel pressed two fingers to her forehead, rendering her unconscious. He waved his hand once more, and the wounds and scars from her days as a hunter returned.

Sam, Dean and Bobby would be so concerned with the blood pouring from her hellhound slashes, bruised knuckles and bleeding lip and head to noticed the scabbing Enochian symbols that went in a line perpendicular to her ribs.

* * *

 **Sorry for the wait! Really!**

 **Also, just so you know, Nikki _will_ regain her memories in the next chapter!**

 **~Christianne**


	8. Chapter 8

**I know, I know...I'm such a bad fic-writer. :(**

 **I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, but I posted two today...So... *hopeful little smile :)***

 **I'm sorry if parts of this seem a little rushed; I had half of it written already, and today I sat down on my phone for three hours at school while I waited for the power to come back on (yes, I sat in a darkened classroom for three and a half hours while I waited for the power to come back on, it didn't, by the way).**

 **~Christianne**

* * *

Omniscient POV

Nobody had seen the power of the Concupii Filia Celi Telum in more than a thousand years; Castiel _drastically_ underestimated her. The wounds over her body should have made her vocalize her pain enough for Bobby Singer to come down to the panic room, examine and begin to treat her wounds. They should have delayed the discovery of the Enochian symbols branded to her ribs, but they didn't.

Just minutes after the angel left, Nikki's body began to soak up the spilt blood. Her wounds closed up on themselves and healed without scars.

Hours later, the Winchester brothers arrived at Bobby's house.

Sam sat with his side against Nikki's cot, his cheek on his arm along the and looking at Nikki. He hadn't noticed it before, but her hair was the dark, rich, ebony brown again. Sam laughed once; he was _happy_ her hair was brown again. She looked like _Nikki_ again.

Bobby had thrown Nikki's duffel in a dark, dry corner of his basement on top of a few cardboard boxes with some of her other stuff in them. Sam found her favorite pajamas in the duffle bag; a gray tank top with a tiny row of buttons at the neck and flannel shorts with a faded red and white plaid pattern. After waiting until Nikki stopped thrashing, Sam uncuffed her and changed her into the pajamas. The familiar, worn fabric must have helped her calm down.

Reluctantly, Sam cuffed Nikki to the bed again on Bobby and Dean's insistence, and pulled a blanket over her body. He sat on the floor next to her for hours on end. Sam held her hand, played with her fingers, pulled his fingers through her hair and soaked up her presence. He also held her down when she started to thrash around and panic again.

Sam didn't know he'd fallen asleep until he woke up with his face pressed to the cold floor of the panic room. He pushed himself up, and rolled his neck on his shoulders. It made a sound like popcorn and gravel. As much as he hated the idea, Sam left the panic room. He merely grunted when Dean and Bobby spoke to him, and walked past them to the stairs. He showered and put on fresh clothes. Not wanting to be too many floors away from Nikki, he fell onto the sofa and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

Hours later, in the panic room, Castiel again made an appearance; he wanted to see why the Concupivi Filia Celi Telum was not awake yet.

When he saw all her wounds had simply disappeared, he felt something akin to surprise. If one of the Winchesters or the Singer man were to check on her now, they'd surely see the Enochian carved, and nicely scared over, in her side. It was pivotal how the Concupivi Filia Celi Telum discovered to power they had; it must be done on her own, not through the Winchesters sweeping the Internet for the lettering on her ribs. So, Castiel took action.

He unlocked the handcuffs with a lazy wave of his hand. The metal fell from her wrists and ankles, making metallic clanks against the cot. Then, Castiel put two fingers against Nikki's forehead.

Nikki inhaled deeply, and opened her eyes.

The angel was gone before Nikki's vision could adjust and clear enough to see him.

* * *

Nikki POV

I woke up with a groan, and pressed the back of my wrist to my eye, then rubbed the other one.

After pushing myself up on the hard surface I was laying on, and throwing the scratchy blanket off my bare legs, I looked around. I was in a, slightly rusted, metal room.

I swung my legs over the edge of the cot, and put my feet on the cool floor. I stood, and wobbled briefly on my feet. I groaned again, putting a hand to my head as I got my balance back. Once I did, I went to the door.

It was a heavy, industrial looking one, and the first thought I had was _damnit it's gonna be locked._ I put my hands against it and pushed anyway, and my brows raised up in surprise. With a creak, the door swung open. I stepped out of the room, and frowned; I was in _Bobby's basement._ I also became aware that I was wearing my short PJ shorts, a tank top and no bra, but one problem at a time.

I made my way to the steps, and carefully climbed the splintered planks. Normally, I wore shoes (at least socks) when I went down them, but I was barefoot. I hopped up the last step and grabbed the doorknob. I pushed the door open and stepped onto the smooth, worn floor of Bobby's main floor.

I shut the door behind me, and looked around. "Hello?" I called softly, looking through the halls.

I walked to the study, and smiled a little as I saw Sam on the couch. His long legs were over the arm, and his head and shoulders propped up on the other, his laptop was on his stomach and there was a blanket haphazardly over a little less than half his body.

I left Sam to sleep, and headed the other way down the hall. Bobby was upstairs sleeping; his hat was over the edge of the banister. I froze as I heard something in the kitchen. I didn't have a weapon or anything, but there was _tons_ of stuff to kill something in the kitchen. I slowly approached the doorway, and peeked through.

Someone was leaning into the fridge; all I could see was a hand over the top of the door and a pair of jean-clad legs. I reached for a knife I saw on the table at the same time the door shut.

" _Dean?_ " I asked, leaving the knife on the table.

The tall hunter turned around when I spoke. He had a loaf of bread, some lunch meat, cheese and mustard arms, and a pickle hanging out of his mouth. He dropped the sandwich makings on the counter, bit off part of his pickle and dropped the rest on the counter too.

When his arms were empty, I ran at him from the other side of the small kitchen and threw my arms around him. He stumbled back a step, and I pressed my face to his chest. My fingers dug into his back and fisted the flannel material of his shirt. I wasn't quite crying, but I was gasping and shaking.

Dean took a moment, and hugged me back. I stopped shaking after a second or two, and my grip on Dean loosened (only because it seemed like he was having a hard time breathing).

"Oh my God how the hell are you out of Hell?" I asked, leaning out of the hug.

He just blinked at me, then narrowed his eyes. "You feelin' alright?"

"Dude, _you_ were the dead one!" I said sternly, poking his chest. "I should be asking _you_ if you're ok!"

I took a breath. "Are you ok?"

Dean gave a short, snorting laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm doin' fine Nik."

" _Good._ " I said, crossing my arms.

"So, you never answered my question," Dean said; I barely had the words out of my mouth when he did.

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess. Kinda got a headache. A little sleepy..." I trailed off, my gaze drifting to the sandwich fixings on the counter. " _Hungry_."

Dean laughed once, and playfully shoved me away from his food. He told me he'd make me a sandwich, _if_ I promised to let him be while he made it.

Laughing, I went into the living room. I glanced back at Dean, then slowly padded over to the sofa in my bare feet. I got down by the arm of the sofa, resting my chin on it, and lifted a hand up. I carded it through Sam's hair, starting at the long strands that fell by his face and going back to the crown of his head. He stirred slightly, nudging his head into my hand. I did it again, and this time Sam's eyes lazily opened.

He blinked a few times, and I ran my hand through his locks again. Sam focused his gaze on me, and a sleepy smile spread over his lips. I gave a quick glance to the doorway to the kitchen for Dean, then pressed a slow, soft kiss to Sam's temple. He laughed once, just a breath through his nose, and shifted on the couch.

When his laptop fell to the floor, he only frowned, but I gasped. He looked from the laptop to me, then sat up abruptly. While I examined his roughly discarded computer, Sam fought with the blanket over his legs.

"I don't think anythin'— _Eep!_ " I was cut off when Sam reached down, grabbed me around my waist and lifted me up. I was gently crushed to his chest as my feet were lifted off the ground. I scrambled to get my arms around his neck as Sam leaned back a little and spun me around once.

When my feet landed on the floor again, I was a little dazed. Sam took advantage of that by swooping down to grab my face with one hand to guide me up to a kiss. At this point, I stopped questioning it and kissed him back. I tightened my grip around Sam's neck, and got up on my toes so he didn't have to lean down as much.

From the kisses I shared with Sam, this one seemed deeper. Not referring to his tounge in my mouth, more like this one held _so much more emotion_. Sam's other hand was on my side, and pressed into my flesh as it moved to hold the small of my back. Actually, it was a _little_ lower than the small of my back; it wasn't ass-grabbing, but it was pretty close. The hand on my face moved to thread through, and eventually knot in, my hair.

Our mouths moved in tandem. Contrary to some of our other kisses, neither of us was trying to, 'win the imaginary prize,' as I once said. We were just _enjoying_ each other, drinking each other in.

It was when I first pulled back slightly that I realized Sam as mumbling something. I briefly flashed back to when Meg was possessing Sam, and pulled away from his lips completely. He continued to kiss my face and neck, moving his grip on my hair to tilt my head to one side. As he nuzzled and kissed down my face to my neck, he mumbled over and over _you're back._

" _Hey_ ," I said softly, taking his face in my hands. At first, I thought he was sad. But his eyes were sparkling in all the different colors that swirled around his irises, and the only thing that appeared to be keeping him from grinning was a hint of a sexy smirk. "What's wrong?"

Sam's eyes searched mine for a moment, then his forehead rested against mine. "Nothing..." Sam said under his breath. His grip on me adjusted briefly, so that he held me tighter and a little more, well, _closer_. I let out a happy little sigh, and let my head rest in the crook of his neck.

I swear I was almost asleep again when the sounds of Dean in the kitchen finally registered in my brain. After groaning in annoyance, I leaned away from Sam, only to be yanked back. I laughed a little, but after it happened three more times, I was a little annoyed. "Sam...C'mon, let me go!" I half whispered. "Do you _want_ Dean to see-"

"He knows," Sam cut me off, his lips trailing over the shell of my ear as he spoke, making me shiver. When a kiss he pressed to my neck turned into a gentle suck and a hard nip, my eyes rolled back in my head, then what he said was processed.

" _What?_ " I asked, jerking back from him entirely. " _Why does he know?_ " I said in an angry, loud whisper, paired with a sharp shove to Sam's chest that pushed him back a little.

"I told him," Sam said, like it was an obvious answer.

" _Why_ , Sam? _Why_ did you tell your brother that _we had sex_ while he was in _Hell_?" I hissed at him, giving him my best glare.

"Nik if you don't get in here I'm eating your sandwich!" Dean called from the kitchen. I looked towards the kitchen, then glared at Sam.

"If I wasn't so hungry, I'd _so_ kick you ass!" I said lowly, giving his (very firm) chest a hard poke.

I quickly went into the kitchen, sat down across from Dean and started on my sandwich. Sam followed me into the kitchen, and pulled a chair up to the table. He straddled the back and crossed his arms over the back of the chair.

"So," I said, my mouth full. I paused and took a swig from the can of Sprite Dean got for me from the fridge. "Which one of you is going to start talking first?"

* * *

"Are you **fucking** _kidding me!?_ " I yelled at Sam as I yanked my jeans up my legs. Dean and he had just finished clearing up what had happened the last _five_ months, and Sam had followed me up to a bedroom.

"Nikki-" Sam tried to speak, but I just threw my discarded PJ shorts at him.

"What the fuck _was that_ Sam? Wham-bam-thank-you **_Nikki_**?" I yelled at him as I pulled my tank top off my torso and grabbed my bra from the open duffle bag on the bed.

"I was trying to protect you from-" Sam was getting a little pissed at this point, and thank God because I had been trying to get a decent reaction from him since I slapped him across the face in the kitchen.

"From _what_ , Sam?" I yelled in his face as I pulled a t-shirt over my head. "I'm the reincarnation of the world's most powerful witch, I have one-and-a-half souls, I've been scratched, stabbed, bitten and beaten to within an inch of my life by demons, vampires, werewolves and whatever the _hell_ that thing was back in Spokane, and _you were worried about me_?"

Sam's jaw clenched, and he remained absolutely motionless as I yanked on my socks and Converse.

"You were worried about _my safety_ , so you went after the thing that killed Dean _on your own_?" I asked incredulously. "I know you're a little bit of a jackass, but the _stupid_ part you must have picked up while you were running around trying to find Lilith!"

"I was looking for you too Nikki!" Sam yelled back at me. "After I left, Bobby came back and you were gone! Your phones were dumped, your car wasn't anywhere and _I couldn't find you_!"

"The only reason you lost me in the first place was because you left me in bed all alone!" I snapped back, hiking my duffle over my shoulder and grabbing my hoodie from the door knob. I rolled my eyes at him as I started down the hallway to the stairs.

"Nik...C'mon-"

"Oh no no _no_!" I said, spinning on a heel to face Sam. I waved a sarcastic finger at him. "Don't 'Nik, c'mon' me Samuel Winchester! You left me in bed to go chase a demon, then you found me four months later in Connecticut with blonde hair!"

After that, I turned and went down the stairs loudly, ignoring Sam's yells. I went through the kitchen, and saw Dean at the table. I kissed the top of his head as I passed, and gave him a breezy 'later' as I went towards the, slightly rusty, Ford Cougar Bobby had in his yard.

"Where the hell are you going?!" Sam yelled-and I mean really yelled-at me as he jogged down the steps. Dean followed, and leaned on the doorframe with a beer in his hand.

"You said I had a dog back in New Haven." I huffed as I threw my bag in the truck.

" _So?_ " Sam yelled, standing near the car.

"You told me I have a goddamn dog being watched by some snot-nosed neighbor kid! Where the fuck do you _think_ I'm going?" I snapped at him as I got in the driver's seat.

"Nikki would you just listen to-"

I cut Sam off with the loud roar of the engine and peeled out of Bobby's yard.


	9. Chapter 9

Nikki POV

I was somewhere in Illinois when I stopped for gas. I'd answered all of Sam's calls, but only blasted the radio and revved the engine while he yelled at me. I made the mistake of answering a call from Dean, and ended up in another yelling match.

After I got gas, I rode around for a while before getting back on the highway. I stopped at a bakery that looked nice and left with a blue box of assorted pastries. As I left, I saw a blonde kid who looked about 11 struggling to staple a paper to a light post and hold a dozen or so more papers under her arms. After a quick glance around the fairly empty street, I walked towards her.

"You gotta use the side of your fist," I said, stopping to stand next to her before taking a bite of the apple fritter I was holding. She looked up at me with a look that was supposed to be defiant, but ended up just looking pitiful.

"I can do this on my own," she said quietly, turning back to the paper flapping around on the post with only one staple holding it to the wood. She had the other flyers pinned to her side by her elbow, and tried to push the stapler into the wood with her hands.

"Kid, you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep doing it like that," I said, laughing once. She gave me another pitiful look, then handed me the stapler. I handed her the box of pastries, and took the stapler. I held it with one hand, and with the other hand, slammed the side of my fist onto the beige plastic. I did this four more times; one staple in each corner. "See, side of your fist." I said, looking down at her. She had been watching me carefully, and nodded.

I looked back at the flyer. In big black letters across the top was written _**HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?**_ Under it, there was a waist-up picture of a guy in his 30s with dark hair, blue eyes and a smile on his face. It appeared to have been taken outside at some park, going by the trees, rocks and creek in the background. Under the picture was the guys description and a number to call.

"You're dad?" I asked, looking down at the blonde girl. She nodded, looking at the picture.

"My computer teacher helped me make them," she said, glancing to the flyers under her arm. "I'm gonna put one on every light post. I already did the last two streets."

I nodded as she spoke. "Hey, open up the box and take whatever looks good." I told her, helping her open it at the same time I took the rest of the flyers. "I'll give you a break." I clarified.

She nodded, and eagerly took a chocolate doughnut with an outrageous amount of sprinkles. I put the flyers on top of the pastry box, and she followed me down to the next light post.

"How long has he been gone?" I asked before I slammed my fist down on the stapler four times, putting another flyer up.

"A few weeks." She answered.

I smiled a little, taking another flyer. "Don't worry," I sighed, putting four staples into the next light post. "When I was in school, my friend Allison Harper's dad went missing for a month and a half. He was supposed to go to New York for a two-night business trip."

"What happened to him?" She asked, her eyes wide with horror.

"Turns out she was worried for nothing." I shrugged. "Her dad went on a two week bender in Atlantic City, and literally lost the shirt off his back. He was trying to win Allison's college fund back before he went back home."

"My dad doesn't gamble." She said firmly. "He says it's for billionairs and suckers."

"Solid advice," I said in agreement. "Unless you know you're gonna win. Then it's not even gambling."

"What?" She asked, her face twisted up in confusion as she took another bite of her donut.

I thought about what I just said. "How old are you?" I asked skeptically.

"Nine and three quarters," she answered, standing up straighter and wiping the frosting off from her chin.

I smiled a little. "Well, you're gonna learn a lot before your my age, I'll let you learn that shard of wisdom on your own."

She nodded, thinking hard, as I took another flyer.

"Is your mom ok with you walking around on your own?" I asked, giving her a playfully skeptical look that made her smile.

"She's at a session," she shrugged. "I don't wanna sit around and do nothing for an hour and forty-five minutes.

" _Session_?" I asked, thinking of all the very different, very bad meanings I knew for that word.

"Yeah, with Dr. Fitzherbert." She said, nodding down the street to a sign that read _Fitzherbert & Clark: Psychiatric and Counseling Services_. My brows raised slightly, and I nodded.

"So kid," I sighed, punching in four more staples. "What makes you so sure you dad isn't on a bender in Vegas?"

She looked down at the ground and shrugged.

"If you don't talk about it, it'll eat you up...Trust me, I know." I sighed, taking another flyer.

"I don't _have_ anything to talk about," she insisted.

"Keep sayin' that and you'll end up like me." I said with a cynical laugh.

"You seem ok." She said, looking at me.

I looked down at myself; skinny jeans, Converse, a tight t-shirt and a shrunken, bleach-stained hoodie. I smiled again, "Thanks, I try pretty hard."

I walked down both sides of this street with the blonde kid putting up posters of her (familiar looking) dad. Towards the end of the street, she mentioned that her father literally disappeared in front of her.

"Here, I'll give you my phone number." I said at my car. I put the pastries on the hood, and searched through my bag. "Ah-ha!" I said, leaning out of it triumphantly holding up a small leather book. It was a reddish brown, and had a pattern pressed into it. Bobby got it for me a few months back; he said it was my _hunter's journal_. I didn't have much in it, other than Kory's, Bobby's, Sam's and Dean's contact information. I dropped it on the hood and told the kid to write her name, phone number and address in it, then kept looking for something to write my own information on.

I found a small, stiff card in the pocket of a dirty pair of jeans. I pulled it out and flattened it on the edge of the car door.

"Here," she said, holding the notebook and pen out to me. I took the book from her, and saw her neat, schoolgirl letters right under Bobby's illegible scrawl; _Claire Novak._

I looked at the business card I'd flattened out. _James Novak_

I looked back at the girl sadly. She was neatly fixing the pile of fliers on the hood of the car, gnawing on her bottom lip. _This_ was the Claire that the nice guy from a few months, well, it was closer to a year now, I guess, loved so much that he couldn't help but smile when he said her name. I ripped a page from my journal and wrote my number, and Bobby's, on it.

"Only call the second number in emergencies, ok? Tell him you know Nikki and she doesn't let anybody drive her car unless she can drive theirs. Alright?" I asked, holding the paper out to her.

"Nikki doesn't let anybody drive her car unless she can drive theirs." Claire said with a nod.

I smiled and put the pastries in the passenger's seat. "Hey," I called to her through my open window. "I meant it."

Claire's brow furrowed. "Meant what?"

"If you don't talk about it, it'll eat you up," I told her, putting on my aviators. "You're gonna want answers, and when you don't get them, you'll turn into something _this_ you would never want to be."

"Why won't I get answers?" She asked from the curb.

"Cause you're a sweet kid, Claire. Innosent." I told her honestly. I turned my car on, and revved the tired engine a few times to make sure it was running ok. "Sweet and innocent doesn't give you answers."

With that, I drove out of the tiny, pointless town and headed for the dog I apparently had.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm sorry about the _really_ long wait, cupcakes. **

**No excuses.**

 **Love you to crumbs cupcakes!**

 **~Christianne**

 **PS~ ANY THOUGHTS OR REVIEWS OR IDEAS WILL BE SO SO SO APPRECIATED!**

* * *

Nikki POV

"Alright Sammy-boy...Only one more time, ok? My arm's gettin' tired," I chuckled, winding my arm back in a few practice motions. Sammy, the massive black, white and red Bernese Mountain Dog I'd found in Blonde-Me's apartment, bounced around happily and wagged his tail.

"Ok then... _Fetch!_ " I half grunted as I launched the blue tennis ball through the air. Sammy barked happily and galloped after the ball in the grass. His big head bobbed up and down, ears flying around as he went after the ball.

I'd left Connecticut a few days ago, with my new-but-not-new puppy, who wasn't really a puppy any more, sitting shotgun. We were in a large, green park in the middle of some mid-western state, Ohio, maybe, for Sammy to get his exercise. He was good in the car, but he chewed on his favorite bone when he was anxious.

As I watched Sammy run through the park, I smiled; it was beautiful. The sun was just starting to set, and the grass seemed to glow. I bit the inside of my cheek when I thought a particular thought; _I wish Sam was here._ Over the last week or so, I'd been trying to not think about him too much, but _damn it_ that gentle giant with fantastic hair had a way of weasel int back into my head.

"Hey."

I spun around, instantly bringing a hand up to my head to push the curls away from my face. When my vision was unobscured, I was looking at a rather... _pleasant_ sight.

Tall. Green eyes. Reddish hair. Killer kicks. A jawline that could cut glass. Overall, not too shabby.

"Hey," I said back, a polite and equally confused look on my face. "Er...Should I know you, or something? Or are you just _really_ forward?" I half-laughed.

The man chuckled. "Well, which one gets me your number? And please note, 'attractive stalker' is also a title I'm willing to accept."

I smiled a little. " _Flattered_ , so thank you. _Taken_ , so _goodbye_!" I winked at the guy, spun on a heel and brought a hand to my lips. After one sharp whistle, Sammy came running back to me, the blue tennis ball in his mouth.

"Will I see you around here again?" The guy called to me.

"Doubt it!" I yelled back, smiling down at Sammy, who happily trotted next to me.

Once in the parking lot, I unlocked the passenger's door and gave my intelligent dog the hand signal to jump up onto the worn seat. I knelt down, one knee on the asphalt, to attach Sammy's collar to the puppy-seatbelt thing I picked up somewhere in Pennsylvania. I may forget my seatbelt half the time, but I'll be damned if my dog is going to die 'cause he'd not buckled in.

I glanced up briefly, then looked up again; something held my gaze. Through the driver's side window, I saw a man on the other side of the parking lot. He just stood there, letting the wind flap his tan coat around. All we did was stare at each other for a good seven seconds.

"Ah!" I yelped suddenly, curling in on myself just enough and slamming my hand to my left side. My palm pressed to my ribcage and my fingers dug into my flesh. Breathing through my teeth, I looked back to where tan-coat-man was standing. H tilted his head to one side, and for some reason, the movement _really_ pissed me off.

With the shooting pain going down my left side, I used the open car door to get myself to my feet. I looked at tan-coat-man over the top of Bobby's Cougar, and glared at him through the curls that fell in my face. He just stared back at me.

A large SUV pulled out of its parking spot, breaking our staring contest for less than a second. When the big-ass car was gone, so was tan-coat-man. I looked around a few times, whipping my head to stare around the parking lot, but didn't see him anywhere.

Sammy's wet nose pressed against my leg through a hole that had ripped and worn right through my jeans. He made some sad whimpers, and pawed gently at my knee when I didn't move. I numbly raised my hand to rest in the middle of his warm, large head. He nuzzled into it.

"Hey boy...It's cool, Sam-Sam..." I said softly, finally reacting to him. I scratched his silky ears, and felt my way to the purple nylon collar around his neck. I tugged gently on it, pulling him from the car.

"C'mon Sammy...You're taking the back seat for a while," I mumbled, opening the back door. The Berner happily jumped in, and made himself at home. After his tail was clear, I shut the door.

Holding onto the car for support, I fell into the passenger's seat and pulled the door shut. I wanted to slide into the driver's seat, but I didn't make it that far. I keeled over; my face pressed into the material of the driver's seat as both my hands pressed and dug into my ribs. I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. I was only seconds away from jabbing the knife on my belt into my calf just to focus on something different.

Just like that, it was gone.

Inhaling deeply, I held my eyes open wide, staring blankly at the back of the seat.

I'd felt pain in that area a few more times than I'd like to remember, but it was never like _this_. In the past, it was usually a painful tightness, like a sore muscle or something. _This_ was like someone was pressing a white-hot brand to my side.

Breathing heavily, I turned so I was on my back on the seats. I pushed a hand up the bottom of my t-shirt, and felt my ribs for the thick scar that had graced my skin too many times.

" _Trippy_ ," I breathed out when my fingers brushed over nothing but plain, average skin.

I pushed myself up, and rubbed my neck; the slouched position hadn't been exactly kind to my neck. I swung a hand over the back of the seats, and felt through the air until Sammy's head was against my palm. I scratched his ears and let him lick my wrist while I turned on the car and peeled out of the parking lot at fifty-five miles per hour.

* * *

 _Why I always dreamed I was in the desert was beyond me; I had no idea, and frankly, I didn't care too much._

 _I tied my dark curls up in a ponytail, getting them off my neck. Then, I started walking. Nothing ever came easy in my dreams. Well, unless they were a particular_ _ **kind**_ _of dream; Sam and I together, and doing something that didn't exactly require instructions. Most of the time, anyway._

 _Sand got in my Converse, and the sun beat down on my head mercilessly. I took off my hoodie, and let it drag behind me in the sand. I paused briefly and wiped sweat off my face. The heavy drops that came down my face got in my eyes and stung. Rubbing didn't make them feel any better; sand got in my eyes. When my hands went back to my sides, I squinted and looked around. Something usually happened by now, and the fact that nothing had was honestly starting to freak me out._

" _Aelia?" I yelled, looking around the sand dunes. "Hey! Aelia? Anybody? Hel-l_ _ **oooooo**_ _! Somebody gonna answer me?"_

 _As I yelled, I turned in a slow circle. I stopped when a quickly approaching speck appeared on the horizon. I brought a hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. "What the hell...?" I breathed out, squinting more._

 _My eyes abruptly widened, and I took off running. My sweatshirt was left behind in the sand as I hoofed it away from the funnel-shaped pillar of fire and clouds that was gaining on me. They looked like heavy, dark storm clouds swirling around sparking, uncontrollable fire. It made a loud roaring sound as it got closer to me; the heat from the fire seared into my back while the sun beat down on the rest of me._

 _My harsh breathing was bringing in dry air and sand. I'd made good on my promise to myself and started working out (some push-ups, crunches and other at-home stuff every day, and a good, hard run four times a week), but that was pretty useless now when I had conditions a triathlete would shy away from. Just when I wasn't sure how much more I could take, I saw something. In the streaky side of a sand dune, between the shades of brown, tan and reddish-orange, was a line of purple sand. Blended naturally into the side of the due was a bright, rich, vibrant purple. It may have just been a fluke, but with_ _ **my**_ _messed up head, every little abnormality could mean a way back to a sane dream. Sliding in the sand from the sharp turn I took, I began to follow the purple streak of sand._

 _I let out a sharp scream when something flew past my ear. It lodged itself into the sand in front of me, and I got_ _ **just**_ _a good enough look at it to push myself faster; it was a damn_ _ **arrow**_ _. You know, the things the Native Americans shot at the cowboys? I was being chased by a fire and storm cloud tornado that_ _ **shot arrows**_ _._

 _Arrows began to pierce the air around me, and bury themselves in the sand. My mind was in overdrive; I knew throwing a few zigs and zags into my running would make it harder for the fire-cloud-thing to hit me, but there was just_ _ **too much**_ _. All I could do was follow the purple sand. It widened into the width of a sidewalk, which was a good thing, because the weird-ass tornado was kicking up all kinds of sand and practically blinding me. Now my lungs were burning, my throat and nose were burning, my eyes were burning, and all my exposed skin stung from having sand whipped at it._

 _I screamed again when an arrow grazed my arm. Blood came from the open gash; the thick liquid soothed the harsh stinging on my arm below the cut as it dripped down, but the gash itself got filled with sand and stung like a mother._

 _Then I saw it._

 _If I wasn't so out of breath I would have laughed. The streak of purple sand led to the side of a large sand dune. Going against the normal patterns in the sand, the radiant purple went up the side, and surrounded the wooden door built into the side of the sand._

 _It wasn't exactly_ _ **easy**_ _to stop in sand; I ended up colliding with the door and cracking my nose on it. The cloud-fire-arrow-shooting tornado was roaring closer as I struggled to get the door open. It swung open unexpectedly, and I smacked myself in the face again._

 _I've never gone through a door so fast in my life. I threw myself in, and slammed the door shut as hard as I could. When I was sure I hadn't been followed, I looked around for a second. When I saw nothing as a threat, I succumbed to the various pains in my body._

 _Specifically, the piercing pain in my left side. A painful anguished scream left my lips as I collapsed to my knees, hands grabbing at my side. Breathing through my teeth, I looked down._

 _Blood._

 _Blood as soaking my hands and t-shirt._

 _Cautiously, I moved my shaking hands to see the damage._

 _I thought I was going to puke._

 _An arrow had lodged itself in my ribs, a little more than five inches of it stuck out._

 _I grabbed the end of the arrow, and, with painful gasps, whimpers and swears, began to pull it from my torso. I know you're supposed to leave crap like that in, to stop the bleeding, I think, but if I die in my dreams, I woke up, right?_

 _The arrow didn't seem to have an end. I kept pulling and pulling until finally I felt the pull of the sharpened end on the wrong side of my skin. I pulled just a little harder, and sighed in relief when it came out._

 _In the dim light of wherever the hell I was, I pressed one hand to the bloody hole in my side and the other held the arrow. It was cold; it was a freakin'_ _ **metal arrow**_ _. There were groves dug into the smooth body of the arrow, and my thumb slid over them from the slick coating of blood. I squinted to try to see what the markings were, but with the combination of dim light and massive blood loss, I felt my head loll back as I passed out._

* * *

 **12 Hours Later**

I scrolled down the webpage with one hand, and reached under the metal, outdoor bistro table with the other. Sammy greedily ate the shred of turkey from my palm; had had fallen out of my, now finished, sandwich. Once I wiped my slobbery palm on my pant leg, my full attention went back to the website up on my screen.

The laptop I was using was new. I'd sprung for it a few hours earlier, buying it with money gained by selling a lump of gold I'd created using a spell from my grimoire. When Dean learned about _that_ spell, he asked why I didn't use it all the time. It was a mentally draining spell that used a large amount of precious ingredients, including 222 drops of blood from a virgin boy born during a blue moon (I had to break into a blood bank to get _that_ ). I'd gotten used to using Sam's laptop for research, but since the only Sam I had with me was nuzzling my legs under the table and lacked opposable thumbs, I needed my own gear.

The keys were still shiny, the outside was still smooth, and the large screen wasn't helping me decipher my dream _at all_. The tiny, spiral bound pocket notebook I'd bought a few counties back at a gas station held everything I'd gathered on dream symbolism.

 _ **desert : abandonment, loneliness/isolation**_

 _ **arrows : setting/reaching goals or targets**_

 _ **fire : being consumed by problems, passion or anger**_

 _ **door : new opportunities**_

I thought the massive programs university grunts set up for the public to decipher dreams were supposed to be _helpful._ Clearly, I was wrong.

A groan escaped my lips as I tilted my head back in frustration. Sammy nuzzled his head under my hand, making me smile. One of my hands scratched Sammy's silky ears, and the other pressed to my left side. There had been a dull, achy burn in my ribs since I woke up from my weird-ass dream. That wasn't the only development with my scared ribs since I woke up; there were some new appearances.

Also since I woke up, I'd been chasing a persistent, errant thought out of my head; Sam. Nothing more elaborate that, just Sam and everything about him. Just... _Sam._

"What'd'ya think, boy?" I asked Sammy, who;d closed his eyes due to my ear-scratching. "Think I've punished the Winchesters enough?"

Sammy snorted.

"Yeah..." I sighed, closing my laptop. "Yeah, I think it's time I get back to my human Sam too."

 **_-~0O0~-_**

One call to Bobby and a seven hour drive later, I was in the same county as Sam and Dean. They had a particularly persistent ghoul in their sights, and had stopped leaving me countless calls and texts. A good few hours were spent tracking down the to 'FBI agents,' and once I had, I burned rubber getting to the farm on the outskirts of town.

With my sawed off by my side, and Sammy on the other, we sat back at by my borrowed Cougar, and the Impala, waiting for _something_ to happened.

* * *

Omniscient POV

With Dean nursing a nasty head wound back in the shed, Sam was sprinting through the woods after a ghoul. Normally, they didn't cause too much of a problem, eating decomposed bodies and what not. But the ghoul Sam was chasing through the woods had been pretty busy for the last half a century; it killed upwards of twelve people a year, then waited half a decade before eating them.

After stopping, and firing once, Sam continued running. His pace faltered when several barks echoed through the forest, soon followed by a shrill, painful scream. The closer Sam got, the more confused he became.

The ghoul was on the ground, screaming, as a _massive_ black, white and red dog violently shook his head while keeping its jaws locked on the ghoul's shoulder. Growling, the Berner released its iron grip just enough to let a slab of bloody, half-rotted flesh slip past his teeth. When he bit back down, there was a snap, then the ghoul screamed even louder.

Sam picked up the pace, readying his shotgun. As he took aim, there was a sharp whistle, paired with a firm _Come!_ command. The dog darted away, leaving Sam to take off the ghoul's head with a single blast to the face.

Still breathing heavily from running what he guessed was more than a mile and a half, Sam looked towards where the dog had ran. The dog was currently wagging its tail wildly as he received words of praise and happy ear scratches from his owner, who made a look of distaste as she pulled ghoul flesh from the dog's purple nylon collar.

" _Nikki?_ " Sam asked, shocked to see his petite, dark haired-... _friend_ , while on a job in Iowa.

She turned and flashed Sam a closed lipped smile. Nikki ducked her head down slightly, raising a hand to tuck curls sheepishly behind her ear. "Hey Sam..." She said, glancing up at him with her big dark brown eyes.

Popping the empty shell from the shotgun, Sam, still confused, took a step forward. "What are you doing here?...Not that it isn't good to see you!" He added the last part quickly.

"Yeah, no, it's great to see you too," Nikki responded hastily, nodding as she spoke. "I, uh...I missed you," she finally admitted.

"I missed you too," Sam said honestly, realizing how cheesy he sounded. He took another step forward. "Dean too...We both missed you."

"I, er...I kinda need your help," Nikki said with a little, slightly embarrassed, frown.

"With what?" Sam asked, already in information gathering mode. "What are you hunting? Where is it?"

"It's more like...Rune identification," Nikki said slowly.

"Oh...Can I see them?" Sam asked, thinking he would be looking at a picture of symbols carved into a tree or rock.

"Sure," Nikki shrugged. She commanded Sammy to sit, which he did obediently. Much to Sam's surprise, Nikki turned her left side towards him, grabbed the hem of her canvas cargo jacket and lifted it up, bringing her faded hoodie and t-shirt with it.

Sam blinked twice, then swallowed. The revealed skin was the same _magnificent_ olive-tan shade is was when they-... When exposed to the damp morning air, goose bumps prickled over her skin, which Sam watched expand and retract with her ribs and diaphragm. He couldn't help it when his gaze strayed to the soft curve of her exposed hips, or her slim stomach which was softened by a plush layer of burger and Chinese food fat. The raised scars from the Hellhound were the only imperfections on her exposed skin, but they were arguably one of Sam's favorite features of her's. She hadn't believed him when he told her, but shut up about it when he'd begun to pepper feather light kisses along the lines of over sensitive skin and tissue; to Sam, the long claw marks that cured over Nikki's stomach proud just how strong and resilient she was, but he didn't say a word about how he _hated_ how they got there.

Nikki knew the exact moment Sam saw what she'd lifted her jacket and shirt for him to see in the first place. His features, which had lost a little bit of the boyish roundness, first contorted into a look of fear and worry; he saw the six inch long, inch wide, red, puffy and raised scar that stretched over Nikki's ribs. The second expression on Sam's face was unbridled curiosity. Nikki could almost hear his mind working behind his hazel-blue eyes; he took notice of the symbols that appeared to be branded into the pinkish scar. The third expression as the one that stuck, and was a mix between the first two.

Sam took several steps towards Nikki, and even held out a hand to touch the mark. She tried not to flinch, but when the branded scar was touched, it burned; Nikki involuntarily twitched away from Sam's hand, and it froze in the air at once.

The pair met eyes. Sam's sharp, kaleidoscope eyes of shades of blue, gold and green were filled with curiosity, worry and tenderness. Nikki looked back at him with chocolate brown eyes; they were guarded and strong, but under the intense kaleidoscope eyes, the soulful brown cracked and melted, showing fear and vulnerability.

The oddly intimate moment was broken by Dean, who was angrily thrashing out of the woods, head in one hand, shotgun in the other. Once out of the brush, the older Winchester blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing right, then smiled. "Hey Nik, when'd you get here?"

Dean's surprised, happy greeting fell on the two of many emotions. He frowned, and began to walk to the Impala. "Tell me all about it after I get sumthin' for my head...And that dog is _not_ getting in my car," he grunted out.

* * *

Nikki POV

It didn't take too long to get Sammy cleaned up; five minutes of him biting at the water that came from the hose behind the motel as enough to get the ghoul blood from his silky fur. He did that dog thing to dry off, shaking the water off from his nose to his tail. Once back in the motel room I'd rented, he promptly fell asleep on the doggy bed I tossed on the floor for him at the foot of my bed.

Sam wanted to jump right into the mark on my side, but Dean and I had other ideas. I wanted to relax and get a good night's sleep (since I woke up feeling _exhausted_ from my dream last night, and every nap I'd taken since then), and Dean needed a good night of 'painkillers' (i.e. whisky) as a local bar.

So, after a good half hour of convincing, Dean rumbled out of the parking lot in the Impala and Sam and I were laid out on the single queen bed in the room. It was one of the adjoining-type rooms, connected to the one Sam and Dean rented next door, accessible through a pair of doors in the shared wall.

Sam was the big spoon, and I happily accepted the role of the little spoon. Both of us were half-asleep as the TV flashed unmatched light into the dark room. He drew circles with his thumb on thigh and I played with the fingers of the arm of his I was laying on. Sam's nose was buried in my hair, and I was nestled tights to his chest. Our legs were tangled up and our breathing was almost in sync.

"What are we?" I asked lazily, my half-lidded eyes watching a rerun of some 90s sitcom.

Sam sighed heavily before responding; his breath ruffled through my hair and down my neck, making me close my eyes, shiver, and scoot closer to him.

"Human," he sighed, pressing a kiss to the hair that covered my ear.

"Hunters," Sam added a moment later. The hand on my hip moved up to brush my hair away, then kissed my temple slowly. His forehead gently rested on the place he'd just kissed, angling his head to his lips hovered and brushed over my ear.

" _Alone_ ," he breathed.

As if on cue, Sammy let out a soft snort in his sleep from the dog bed on the floor.

Human Sam didn't even react to the sound, as if ignoring it would deny it existing.

Sam's breathed words and gentle (but firm) touches, along with the dim light and low TV volume was lulling me into a 'L word' clouded haze.

"Not totally alone," I remarked in lazy sarcasm, one corner of my mouth smirking up as Sam let out a lone amused chuckle. "And you know damn well what I mean, Sam Winchester."

My sharper tone made Sam stop moving. Moments later, he fell back to where he'd been, rather than hovering half-over me. His hand didn't return to my upper abdomen; instead, it rested on my upper abdomen, his thumb gently laid on the raised strip of skin that ran along my left side. The silence seemed to go on and on; Sam only brushed my mark now and then with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, returning his face to my hair. Sam's lips moved against my curls as he spoke. "For leaving you behind. I was trying to protect you...I'm sorry."

I smiled just a little. I moved a hand back, and somewhat awkwardly held the back of Sam's head, threading my fingers through his locks and pulling him towards me slightly. "You're supposed to do a lot of things, Sam...But protected me isn't one of them."

He mumbled _Sorry_ into my hair one more time, then pressed a slow, open mouthed kiss to the nape of my neck.

It was one dull TV show cycle later that Sam spoke. "So...What do you wanna... _be_?"

I shrugged as much as I could when Sam had such a tight grip on me. "What do you wanna _be_?"

"Well, you're the girl...Don't you get to choose?"

"What kind of relationships have _you_ had?"

"Normal ones, for the most part."

"My only long term relationship was with a demon who liked dudes better."

"So, no normal relationships for Nikki."

"Nope."

"Huh."

"Yup."

"I still say if falls to you."

"Jee, _thanks_...Hunters don't really have normal relationships, though..."

"No, they do not."

"And I'm a witch, so I don't really know how normal we can be."

"That's not a big deal...The witch thing. Not to me, anyway. You're not that different from a normal person."

"Tell that to the chanted bullets in my gun."

"Enchanted bullets?"

"Tell you 'bout them later. My point is, even by hunter standards, we can't have a normal...agreement."

"Oh, so we have an _agreement_ now, not a relationship."

"Shut up! You know what I mean— _Stop laughing!_ "

"Ok...Ok...So, if we want this—You want this, right?"

"Would I be ignoring the thing pressing against my leg if I didn't?"

"We're not talking about me! Just answer the question...And _you know_ it's a compliment."

"Uh-huh, _sure_...But, yeah...I wanna do this."

"We're doing this, then."

"Yeah."

"And what are we gonna call it?"

"New."

"You know that's not gonna be enough for Dean."

"He thinks we're doin' it now, so who cares what he says about it?"

"Eh...You're not wrong."

"Yeah..."

"We're doing this, then."

"You already said that."

"I know."

"My answer's still the same...You?"

"Yeah...Still the same."

"Good."

"We're... _together_ , then."

"Yeah...together. No titles yet, though."

"Why not, _girlfriend_?"

"Ew, don't say it like _that_!...It's gross and everyone thinks that we're gonna be all _mushy_ then...I'm not _mushy_."

"So what am I to you if I'm not your boyfriend?"

"You're my...My Sam."

" _Your Sam_."

"Yup. And I'll be Your Nikki, but not in a misogynistic way, though."

"Of course."

"So, good?"

"My Sam, My Nikki...Good."

"Good."

"So...What now?"

"I'm good...You have anything in mind?"

"Maybe."

"Oh, go on, _My Sam_."

"Well, _My Nikki,_ Dean has a key to the room next door."

"Uh-huh..."

"He won't be back for a few hours, at least."

"Go on..."

"Nobody's in the room on the other side of us, so we don't have to be quiet."

"Ooooo..."

"Sammy can go in the next room, 'cause, I don't think I can do stuff to you in front of you large, overprotective dog watching."

"He's asleep, Sam."

"Oh, he'll are up, trust me."

"Fine...Send my sweet boy to Dean's room."

"If he's your sweet boy, what am _I_?"

"Well, you're still My Sam...But I'm going to need a... _different_ , situation to give you anymore nicknames."

"Alright then, My Nikki."

"Wait—What if Dean brings a lady back?"

"Then he's gonna do it in front of the dog."

"I don't think your big brother will go along with that."

"He won't, but neither of us will be able to open the door to take him back."

"Why won't we be able to open the door? _Exactly_ why. I need specifics."

"That'd ruin the surprise...But let me rephrase...I'll be too busy to open the door, and you won't he able to."

"And why wouldn't I be able to—" My eyes just about rolled back in my head as Sam finally put his hands back on me.

" _ **Oh**_ _..._ "


End file.
